I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
Sometimes you read something and it just gives you this crazy, weird feeling inside. It’s the feeling of pure emotion, passion in its rawest form. It’s like someone took your insides and shook them all up, sending them swirling into oblivion. The heart beats faster and the head spins, just enough to set you over the edge.
It’s an odd phenomenon and it usually catches me by surprise. You can’t plan for something like that to happen, it just does. It could just be the way something is phrased or an intense connection with a certain concept. It may sound cliche, or even a bit trite, but the truth is, there's nothing else like it.
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