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Dreams, they pass by, they fly by;
In a moment, flash, boom and then they're gone;
Sufferin, in those moments of pure brilliance
knowing that they're only temporary
and even with twenty-twenty, you look back, fact check,
still it's all just a blurry mess
of puzzle pieces, little teases
of what you once were...
I'm not what I thought I was;
I'm not what I'm supposed to be;
I'm not who you think I am
I'm not where I should be.
What am I?
Who is in this mirror I see.
It's like you're running in the dark
stark naked though an onslaught
of freezing rain, with that creeping pain, only to become numb
to your situation; jubilation as you feel this warmth,
even hot with anticipation, but it's not real, not this, this feeling, not now, not real, (not real) or is it...
I'm not what I thought I was;
I'm not what I'm supposed to be;
I'm not who you think I am
I'm not where I should be.
Is any of this really real?
For real, who is in this mirror I see.
