I’d rather be in your imagination.
For I grow cold when you become my creation.
I’ll never know if your eyes can truly see.
But I’d like to believe that they can fall in love with me.
For every time this happens, I go cold
I wrap myself in a blanket and fold,
Thinking is it love or a poisoned dove.
I wonder if tonight will be my last day,
Mom, Dad I'm here just say "Hey".