Once, I thought I’d found love,
hook and tethered to the Siren’s Song.
Even though you were near, I was empty.
It must have been so pain’d to see.
O’, how I injured my love
singing westward songs unto the setting sun.
Might my suffering be song, if nothing else.
If nothing else, teardrops fallen from moonlit eyes,
they don’t mind or terrorise the way
in which we coveted and held our candles lit with
one heart beating, one mind leaping.
This is the Way,
that you can find me near.
This is the Way,
in which it’s clear.
This is the Way
that we can use these pieces of ruins.
This is the Way
to build our Castle in the Sky.
My darkened eyes and your stormy skies were born to house our disarray, but why?
Our love is a furnace that kills itself, when just as well the embers might be stoked.
This is the Way,
that you can find me here.
This is the Way,
in which it’s clear.
Transfixed in your eyes,
like beacons they guide my way to our special place;
our Castle in the Sky.
And I don’t mind, no,
I wouldn’t dare to theorise, no,
for dreams recall our future selves awake and aware.
I know I’ll see you there tonight, in our Castle in the Sky.
