Give me your hand.
You feel that vibration in my chest?
That's called a heartbeat,
and as long as that machine
is pumping that red matter through my veins,
it goes through to my brain,
fueling the synapses and images
and sensations that form into
flashes of you.
You're just flashes of light and
electricity in my head.
But they're so crystal clear.
You're so real and tangible to me,
that it's the only thing I cling to
when the rest of me is a blur
in the ever-changing world.
And amongst the change,
you're the one thing I want to stay constant.
You're crystal clear as a lake,
and my reflection beams back to me,
when I see.
And it's all light. It's all light.
Figments of each other's imaginations.
Because nothing is really real.
It's all empty space.
So you're the only thought I want to linger on,
when the night falls,
when the leaves fall,
when I fall.