On this hilltop, looking down,
the muddy river flows
on the waters far below
midday sun makes it glow.
You could put the Empire State Building
in there, and its top wouldn't show
this, the grandest of the canyons
swallows it up you know.
The speck (me) is awed
I walk fast back to my tent
the day is ending quickly
the bulk of sun is spent.
Indian Gardens, my oasis,
is a clump of green below
the rim is still miles up
I was here once and I know.
I'm back for the second time
the hike from rim to rim
sleep comes swiftly to my eyes
as the daylight dims.
The huge domes and cliffs
surround me with their height
marveling, I fall asleep
becoming one with night.

I waded cautiously,  out into,  the open sea...

laughing,  as the waters covered me...

over my **** fool head!

We're in the right position,
not too close to burn right up;
enough oxygen to sustain life,
sweet, the wine, from God's cup!

So sweet, the taste of love
from brimming hearts,
sunshine from above,
from which we all are parts.

The seasons bring variety,
in so many different ways;
as the earth turns in silence,
like half-forgotten plays.

The music that we hear,
the visions that we see;
made for eye and ear,
for you alone - and me.

And if you think it chance,
then you won't ever know;
the reason why we breathe,
and why the soul does glow.

The morning's dark and gloomy
chance or rain, the papers said ;
I put on rain-repellant gear
and it's off to the trails I head.
Skies are shadowed and cluttered
like shrouds, the clouds roll by;
but below me the ground is solid
brown, hard packed, and dry.
Beside me, a glow's now forming
the sun, now takes center stage;
it lightens the landscape around me
and its color now,  is beige.
But it lasts for only a moment
the shrouds come creeping back;
and in minutes the darkness returns
and is changing the color to black.
But now I've begun my return
and my hiking's on the wane;
I've gambled the odds in my favor
by dodging the chance of rain.

The wind is cool and brisk,
the sun, it gives no heat;
it's the end of winter,
and I have anxious feet.
To hike the rolling hills,
to walk the secret trail;
where butterflies hang out,
perhaps, some hurried quail.
To scan the sky for hawks,
or,  if in luck,  an eagle;
something grand as that,
something just as regal.
But I'll take a hummingbird,
or a hopping cottontail;
life's full of variation,
and I'm not one to wail.
All I need is random change,
from the traffic's daily roar;
from the din of constant chatter,
those are the days that I live for.

In this last day of September,
there are things to remember;
fading of the summer's heat,
scents of autumn, oh so sweet.

Shadows grow a little quicker,
as the sun begins to flicker;
the dawn is slow in rising,
each morn a bit surprising.

The air grows crisp and cool,
and still I am but nature's fool;
happy in the changing of a season,
not for any certain rhyme or reason.

Autumn comes with dying themes,
in its multicolored schemes;
in the falling of the leaves,
form proud majestic maple trees.

September slips in grand repose,
with each death of one red rose;
giving way to autumn's song,
as the change of life moves on.

This world is hard to bear Lord,
when no one speaks Your name;
when they shun the church Lord,
and pitch and toss the blame.
That our president is crazy,
and the cops are not our friend;
that we can sort it out this time,
where does the madness end?
When will we pay attention,
and note the futile plans;
nothing more is gained, but lost
according to men's plans.
When will the nations realize,
without Him, we are lost;
and were headed for oblivion,
regardless of the cost?
The world is sliding down the tubes,
confusion in the streets;
with chaos in the cities Lord,
and where the suburbs meet.

A church is not a building,
it's a meeting of the people;
that need no graven images,
that do not need a steeple.

God doesn't need a temple,
He's found most everywhere,
except in minds of sceptics,
or those who just don't care.

The hearts of men are stunted,
inside, their souls are dead;
they have no Spirit in them,
just carnal thoughts instead.

They are not called to God,
they are but slaves to sin;
they perish with no knowledge,
blind to where they've been.

A church is not a building,
it's the people of the Word;
that adhere to God's commandments,
and the power of his sword.

In a world of silence
I run on batteries
walk a mile or two
on wrinkled aging knees.

Hearing nothing as I sleep
most things won't wake me up
I sit in awesome silence
and sip my coffee cup.

Closed caption on the t. v.
informs me of the news
the world is still divided
violent, bitter,  bruised.

Time for my daily walk
check the batteries, they're fine
attach the hearing aids
the sun begins to shine.

My dog waits patiently
with uncomplaining love
it's a chilly wintry day
I reach to take my gloves

The air is frosty clean
I leave the car at home
and step with Jax, off the curb
in the neighborhood, to roam.

Come back to where love dwells,
in the garden of your dreams;
to where the heart is calling,
in rich and vibrant reams.
To where the soul is longing,
to drift and sail away;
to where the mind can capture,
the loveliness of day.
Come back to where the heart is,
that desires happiness;
to where the world is pleasant,
with your touch and by your kiss.
Stay and rest your harried life,
and take in treasured hope,
hope that rises up above,
to realms where you can cope.
Come back... forget the sorrow,
of a lonely stretch of heartache;
and fill it now with new love,
...all that you can take.

Come out of Babylon my friend
says the Lord, the King of Kings;
this world is not enough for life
and what man alone does bring.
Put away the tinsel and the gold
shun the darkness, follow light;
and in your soul, repent of sin
for what rings true and right.
Forgive all those that wrong you
pray for your enemies;
for surely God will bless you
as He looks down and sees.
Speak truth, be satisfied
for what God's word does show;
love your neighbor as yourself
it's a law that you must know.
Come out of Babylon my friend
seek first the Christ, your Savoir;
keep the ten commandments
and you'll be in God's favor.

Why do you keep hiding?
you're a fickle, funny thing;
the winds keep right on blowing,
so I know, it isn't Spring.

There's still the cold and frost,
to remind us you aren't here;
but subtle hints of promise,
remind us that you're near.

You doing it in reverse,
coming in like a lamb;
exiting like a lion,
are you weather's sham?

We need heat and blossoms,
some budding would be nice;
we had our fill of chills,
and were tired of the ice.

Show yourself for what you are,
the hope of things much better;
let me leave my coat at home,
so all I wear's a sweater.

Be more like Spring my friend,
get those gardens growing;
warm those spring-like days,
and get that sap a-flowing.

He complained, as he drove,
a car behind him too **** near;
he gazed at the speedometer,
the car was on his rear.
It passed us... doing sixty,
the speed limit, forty-five;
some drivers just like fast,
on speed, they seem to thrive.
He complained, as he drove,
other drivers were insane;
and the ones that tailgated,
they were his special bane.
No cops around when needed,
to catch that wily speeder;
to give to them,  a ticket,
for riding on his keister.
He complained, as he drove,
and I heard the tires,  sing;
then he got behind a car,
and did the same **** thing!

Nothing grows in concrete,
it's hard and unforgiving;
it don't allow for growth,
for things that nourish living.

No thing grows in cement,
it stifles out each breath;
where oxygen can't thrive,
it results in only death.

Concrete is for building,
walls we cannot climb;
barriers that separate,
where the sun can't shine.

Cement is for highways,
to speed us all along;
in chariots of metal,
apart from Nature's song.

Nothing grows in concrete,
it has no heart or soul;
the more we do without it,
the more that we grow whole.

God is not the author of confusion
but can we say the same of man?
he shoves aside the word of God
is that something we can understand?

Man has tried his best to make peace
but his efforts destroy his very plan
it's time to put God back in our life
lest we fall,  as we attempt to stand.

Wars do not solve the anger issues
conflict brings sorrow and more pain
we're left with nothing much accomplished
with little solace  - and very little gain.

We've removed God's blessing by rejection
with abortion, with the wickedness of life
the violence that spreads and conquers
is as deadly and as sharp as any knife.

We are no longer,  what we call united
division covers us, just like a plague
nothing more in life is certain
only something that we call vague.

They'll shoot me in the morning,
for leaving my **** post;
by the time you get this letter,
I'll probably be a ghost.
Didn't want this ******* war,
stabbed the dummy and yelled "****!";
not my idea of passing time,
not my usual kind of thrill.
I'm a pacifist at heart,
learned my lessons the hard way;
now my Uncle Sam,
requires me to stay.
But I said, no, not going to,
I hopped he Greyhound Bus;
said good riddance to it all,
now, what's the ******* fuss?
A simple parting of the ways,
is all that I desire;
I got burned by Army brats,
got too close to the **** fire.
They'll shoot me in the morning,
with a blindfold... or without;
this poem's my legacy,
the last and final shout!

I am content with sun and sand,
atop the arid hill on which I stand;
watching shadows slowly spread,
my heart and soul are aptly fed.

The wind blows gently on my face,
and across the vast and empty space;
where there are things we cannot see,
alive and moving,  far from me.

The heat is absent from the day,
the sunset, begins its magic play;
the clouds, first pink, then red,
like some great wound, it's bled.

Then suddenly, it's twilight time,
as the hours, continue to unwind;
as I greet darkness, my old friend,
reminding me, it's near the end.

My life is pleasant and content,
with things I love and have spent;
the sun and sand are but a little trace,
all that I've enjoyed, while in this place.

I washed my sins down by the river
cast them on rocks, baked by the sun
the Holy Spirit came into my soul
proof that my old life was done.
I repented and was found worthy
all the past was gently wiped away
all the old was buried very deeply
once I found and walked his Way.
Darkness faded from my vision
replaced there by a god-like light
it was then I knew, I need not fear
the coming days and coming nights.
I gave my burdens up to Him on high
the excess baggage faded from my view
I found the truth that set me free
from all the earthly things that I once knew.
I washed my sins down by the river
the blood of Christ did all the rest
I stood tall, before my Savoir
knowing I had passed the test.

In this time of trial and tribulation
social outcasts in one stroke
we face each other, nation to nation
wondering if its all a joke;
hardly a joke my puzzled friend
fevers, coughs and short of breath
we may be close to our own end
shaking hands with doctor death;
let's pray to God for our salvation
repenting of our sinful ways
irregardless of our station
we must be wary of the days;
wash those hands, wash them clean
disinfect the counter-tops
**** the viruses unseen
until its presence stops;
until this ****** pestilence dies
until we can be close again
let's silence rumors and silly lies
and look back at where we've been.

You told me that you loved me,
I told you that was good;
but you never said goodbye,
like I thought you would.

You told me I was beautiful,
I laughed and said, "All right";
but you never said, "I'm leaving",
when you walked out in the night.

You said we were forever,
I smiled and said, "Okay",
but you never said "adieu",
when I thought that you would stay.

You said I was your treasure,
you said I was your prize;
but now I'm by myself,
left sorting out your lies.

You told me that I mattered,
we were a perfect fit;
but now I know the truth,
you were but counterfeit.

If I give my love to you,
would you handle it with care?
would you give it due respect,
can I count it, being there?
If I give you my tomorrows,
would I see them everyday?
would you honor all my dreams,
in those times when, you're away?
And will we have those moments,
when your hand's enclosed in mine?
when our hearts and souls embrace,
not just now, but all the time?
Can you treat love with the truth,
and not deny it with a lie?
can you give me honesty,
to succeed, not merely try?
Then I'll give my love to you,
knowing happiness will reign;
knowing that the days ahead,
our minds will be the same.

Have they come to rob the store?
these people that wear those masks
only one of those my fickle friend
we have to save for those that ask.

I used to broad jump over six feet
social distance's now's the goal
keep away from me my pal
play your prim and proper role.

Don't touch your face at all
you don't know where those hands have been
don't cough or pant for breath
when will this virus ever end?

Stay at home for months and months
locked up in your dwelling
don't buy from take out food too much
who knows just what they're selling?

Read or watch the television
listen to music too -
we're all going bananas
this much I know is true.

Crimson, was the color of the dress you wore,
the night, we danced, out in the square;
lunar beams, cast moon-glow on your face,
the breeze, caressed, your auburn hair.

We danced, to music no one else could hear,
that night, was just for us, alone;
the stars, were cast upon a cloak of black,
that night, they were like jewels that shone.

Held tight, we swayed to sounds of love,
embraced, we floated, in love's trance;
our feet and heart were whirling too,
in the throes of lover's dance.

Our love, like perfume, lingered on,
sweet and magical, we laughed aloud;
the two, of us, so all alone,
so separated from the crowd.

Crimson, was the color of the dress you wore,
the night, we danced, out in the square;
two dreams, one love and mystery,
dancing, in the mist of love... one pair.

Have you had your daily bread this morning?
the spiritual bread of truth?
not the fast food that exists
or the foolishness of youth.
Something stronger, something more,
that feeds the inner soul
that satisfies the heart
that you cannot control.
Truth that rights all wrongs
truth that fills and heals
not your quarter-pounder
not your Happy Meals.
Nourishment from God's great "lunch"
fulfillment from the Word
hunger that's swept away
by the truth that's heard.
He is the Bread of Life
the ever living fountain
by which you overcome
every single mountain.

The night we danced in moonlight
was the start of something new
was the budding of romance
and was the love that first we knew.

The moon's glow, settled on your cheek
I held you tight, as we swirled around
through the clouds the moon did peek
and that night, our love was found.

Stars were companions to the moon
like the stars, dancing in your eyes
then the music ended all too soon
people started saying their goodbyes.

We continued dancing with no melody
imaginary strings that touched our heart
we were seeing things nobody else could see
and for those moments, didn't want to part.

The night we danced in moonlight
was the beginning of our dream
the merging of two souls as one
like two rivers flowing in one stream.

First, there was the darkness,
one long, progressive night;
confusion was its rule,
then suddenly, came light.
And the darkness knew it not,
as it hid from things too bright;
to camouflage its evil acts,
it shunned and fled the light.
It could not understand its God,
the darkness veiled its eyes;
it served another master,
the father of all lies.
The reason men loved darkness?
they'd do wrong, instead of right;
always sinning, always blinded,
from the heaven of God's light.
One day, they'll be no darkness,
when the serpent's cast away;
when God's Son returns to earth,
may His light come soon we pray!

Days and nights, they runtogether,
sometimes fast and sometimes slow;
some are toil and some are pleasure,
sometimes I just never know.

Twelve hours sunshine, 12 hours dark,
when your retired. what does it matter?
the sun above, is very bright and stark,
it can fry you, make you mad as a hatter.

Night is black with shimmy-shine stars,
there's a distant planet there tonight;
don't know which one, perhaps it's Mars,
whichever one,  it's quite the sight.

Dawn comes up with pink-tinged feet,
in rosy-petaled splendor;
light and dark, they sometimes meet,
but as often not, that I can remember.

Days and nights, they runtogether,
sometimes fast and sometimes slow;
sometimes they are hard to measure,
sometimes I just never know.

Death comes, quite unexpected,
in bloom of youth or in our prime;
like a thief, quite, unsuspected,
before maturity, before our time.

It takes away the budding rose,
kills the blossoms of the spring;
when it comes, no one knows,
or what results it brings.

Death comes to all, no one escapes,
both the wicked and the good;
both the sweet and sour grapes,
we can't change it - wish we could.

All the laughter and the tears,
are buried in the silence;
gone the beauty of the years,
in death, serene or violent.

Death is never greeted well,
it's the end of all that's known;
only memory in time, will tell,
how high it is, we've flown.

There are no roses in this garden blooming,
they've withered and died on their stalks;
like the flickers of love that we had,
when we started stopping our walks.

When the kisses gave up their warmth,
when the touches soon became brief;
and embraces were often forgotten,
in various stages of grief.

There are no flowers in this garden growing,
just the tangled masses of weeds;
that perished with our troubles,
that ceased, just like our needs.

When the silence became the norm.
when our eyes looked the other way;
and the nights became too long,
for anything good to stay.

There are no roses in this garden blooming,
only a barren plot;
adrift in memories,
of bitter unanswered thought.

Death of a friendship is
like the loss of love
it does mot matter what type.

I grow tired of love poems
battered hearts that often fall
lost among the songs of pity
love that wasn't there at all.
Love's illusion - cast on air
that settles for a while, then flees
and is carried somewhere else
to other distant lands and trees.
It dies as fast -  as it is born
brief, quick, without much charm
causing sorrows once again
leaving  residues of harm.
Leave it lying on the ground
where scattered leaves gather
where feet will ***** it down
and it no more will matter.
Let the remnants fade away
let the meager moments die
washed away with summer rains
let the love that once was...lie.

Now comes the second day,
following your death;
he was there beside you,
as you took your final breath.
Now begin the days of grief,
the hurting and the sorrow;
for the loved one...gone,
left alone for each tomorrow.
She will not go to heaven,
nor will she go toward hell;
but she'll rise,  come resurrection,
when?   only time will tell.
Then, she'll face God's truth,
then, she'll have a choice;
to accept Him or reject Him,
let's pray she hears His voice.
To be part of God's own family,
where no one dies,   not ever;
right here on God's green earth,
for the next day and forever.

December kisses are -
cold and frozen touches;
pre-winter winds of frost,
that chills as well as clutches.

It bites the face with glee,
the breeze, it nips the ear;
reminding me this season,
is well along I fear.

Next, the ice will form,
in icicles and puddles;
snow will filter down,
before it sticks and muddles.

Freezing comes in quick,
the early chilling dawn;
we dress in several layers,
what it is that we put on.

December kisses are -
frigid, frosty. numbing;
for awhile, we're Eskimos,
for we know, that soon, it's coming.

in the chill of morning,
when the sun is at its rise,
and light grows in the east,
in the west, the full moon dies.

my cheeks are touched by cold,
with my fingers feeling numb,
I raise my arm above my chest,
blotting moon out with my thumb.

the trees are black and barren,
now stripped of any leaves,
they still have symmetry,
though they have lost their "sleeves."

outlined against the sky,
they're still a lovely sight,
dark in the morning's glow,
they're shedding off the night.

the silence of the coming day,
is refreshment to my soul,
gaining peace in solitude,
fulfilling my own role.

I wouldn't be alarmed
if you should go;
I've never been afraid
of mice you know.
I wouldn't watch you
take your leave;
I've never been the type
to sit and grieve.
I won't shed tears
now that you've gone;
we were miscast
and never got along.
I'll clean and wash
just as before;
prepare my meals
shut every ******* door.
With closed curtains
I'll cherish privacy;
I'll be a glad recluse,
if by chance, I need to be.

The desert, slowly grows on you
there are no trees in all that space
the sun was so hot, like an oven
and of a cloud, there was no trace.

But then one night, I camped outside
there was no noise, no planes, no cars
suddenly, I was startled out of sleep
God, I could almost touch the stars!

I'd never seen the Milky Way so close
I marveled at its clarity of light
that set the universe aglow
what a grand and awesome sight!

One spring I saw, the cacti all in bloom
saw a mesa, rise to kiss the evening sky
saw a flaming sunset.  in the west
that made me want to shout (or cry).

The desert has a beauty all its own
from a view a hundred miles away
at first, I wanted desperately to leave
but now I've changed my mind, I'll stay.

The campground is deserted,
it's quiet and serene;
no crowds of noisy people,
in truth, there's no one seen.

I scout each hidden site,
to see which one is best;
but they all look the same,
can't tell one from the rest.

Eighteen bucks for one night,
the price keeps going higher;
my camping days are fading,
to the tents, I don't aspire.

Old age has softened me,
a bed is more my speed;
the refrigerator's there,
and has all I'll ever need.

The campground is deserted,
it's closed for this fall season;
there's only ghosts of campers past,
that slept there for a reason.

In a dry and barren desert,
in a stark and lonely land;
I searched for ample shade,
and touched its friendly hand.
In the canopy of cottonwoods,
in the coolness of its leaves;
I hid from pouring rain,
as it wet my sleeves.
In the vastness of a canyon,
I marveled at its sight;
and slowly headed back,
at the coming of the night.
In the dark and velvet evening,
I looked up and kissed the stars;
stood staring at the moon -
a world away from cars.
On an island in the sky,
I gazed at brown-scorched earth;
the diversity of nature's child,
the variety of its birth.

Desert rose is in full bloom,
I can smell its strong perfume;
a hawk is dipping in the wind,
in fluffy clouds the sun is pinned.
The air is light, no humidity,
a hundred miles my eyes can see;
one mile high, on rolling hills,
evening brings its springtime chill;
I walk along the lonesome road,
shedding quickly, daytime's load;
Content to set a modest pace,
content to be within this space;
relishing the twilight coming,
I begin my quiet humming.
The desert rose is in full bloom,
I can smell its strong perfume,
there's nothing now, that I lack,
as I make the turn to head on back.

First of all, there came the breezes,
swirling gently, blowing soft, around;
then the sudden crack of thunder,
still, a far and distant sound.

Gradually, the air grew cooler,
dropping 20 degrees...or more;
then the raindrops played their melody,
and quickly...it began to pour.

I close my eyes and listen closely,
to the drips of pitter...patter;
the sun has gone from sight,
for now, it doesn't matter.

They're bowling up in heaven,
they're hurling lightning spears;
as the water gathers everywhere,
underneath the angel's tears.

A little moisture for the desert,
in a time of drought-parched need;
I meditate upon its fall,
and of our nature's heed.

A sad goodbye is better
than no goodbye at all
love has faded out
did you hear its fall?
Did you feel the hurt
that lovers sometime share?
or were you but indifferent
and swept aside your care?
Not all love goes smooth or well
when attitudes do change
when once you were in love
but now you feel it strange.
Better sadness at goodbye
than no regrets at all
love has lost its balance
did you hear its fall?

After we left each other,
I thought it for the best;
we only hurt each other,
when we were put to test.

The atheist and believer,
weren't meant to get along;
two different points of view,
two different modes of song.

Love cannot exist in doubt,
love can't find its way;
when minds think separately,
when different thoughts hold sway.

Life's more complicated,
with questions we can't solve;
with solutions left unanswered,
with which we can't absolve.

Yet, I don't love you any less,
for your divergent view;
your honesty's refreshing,
coming straight from you.

In my den, I paced,
measured the width
from each angle;
eight by eight.
One bulb burned
brightly overhead.
The commode was a
cold stainless steel thing
projecting from a wall.
My bed was a metal one
with a thin mattress,
with two sheets and
a blanket.
I was in
disciplinary segregation,
(that's another term for Solitary)
Two weeks for refusing to
obey a direct order from a
captain.
I was in the stockade
going AWOL (in peace-time)
I was ornery and a hard-***.
They jailed my body -
but they never broke my mind.
Twice I was in solitary,
but they never broke my mind.
Yelling **** and bayoneting
a straw dummy was not
my passion.
And so I ran away from it all.
Discovering pacifism at
the age of seventeen.
Crossing the ARMY off
of my things to do list.

You were a sordid torment to my soul,
with your differences, well expressed;
your love, it couldn't make me whole,
I was a fool in love, and I never guessed.
Your abrasions took me by surprise,
your rudeness was an added slap;
I felt stupid,  who once felt wise,
but our division was too great a gap.
I was thoroughly wounded to the core,
bent and bruised by angry hurtful things;
I then surmised I wanted you no more,
those weren't memories love brings.
I tried my best to make you understand,
to rectify the wrongs you accused me of;
but in the end, you never took my hand,
so it disappeared,  what once was love.
I'll not lay down and play the fool,
it's too late to mend and turn around;
I left you and I finally let you rule,
I only hope it's happiness you found.

The sun is blazing hot,
in my corner of the world;
my dog is resting by the vent,
his body slightly curled.
I check the temp. at six,
still ninety in the shade;
a warm wind's blowing gently,
as the evening starts to fade.
In  a hour's time, perhaps,
we'll saunter down the street;
with hope of shadows growing,
to help ward off the heat.
A little stroll for exercise,
to get the blood a-flowing;
content to walk in circles,
we know where we are going.
Summer comes on strongly,
in this section of the west;
sometimes comforting...
today, it's just a pest.

Don't call me your sweetheart,
I'm not your sweetie anymore;
your sweetheart left a while ago,
when I walked out that door.

At first, it was just quibbling,
why this, why that, what for?
then it became a battle,
then it became a war.

I just wanted love and kisses,
you wished to be, Top Gun;
what once was two in love,
was no longer any fun.

So I gave you what you wanted,
your freedom and your choice;
I hope that you're contented with,
the sound of your own voice.

So, don't call me your sweetheart,
what we had is void and gone;
and all we have are memories,
like in some old country song.

Don't write to me of love
it's failed me way too much
left me hurt and angry
left me in its clutch;
I give it only mixed reviews
there's something that is lacking
why do I lose at love?
it always sends me packing;
Unanswered questions left
I'm puzzled by their meaning
I'm confused I do confess
I miss its careful screening;
Don't speak of love to me
it makes my heart to racing
seeing that I'm left alone
to feel the pain I'm facing;
Don't toss me any breadcrumbs
I've had my fill of feast
of silly dilly romance
that lurking constant beast.

Don't tell me that our love is through -
that you want me from your sight;
starting with this very day,
beginning with this night.

Don't tell me our love's done -
that I won't be in your dreams;
that you won't think about me,
and I'll fall right though life's seams.

Don't tell me our love's over -
and I'll be memory;
something you can choose,
if to remember me.

Don't tell me now love's ended -
that I'll soon forget your face;
how can you throw it all away,
and suddenly erase?

Don't tell me our love's gone -
cast out with your last breath;
why does my soul still cry,
denying its own death?

I am dreaming of tomorrow,
when the world turns well;
when we lose the sickness,
and there's nothing left to sell.
When the hate will vanish,
when solid peace returns;
when we learn the truth,
for which the sad heart yearns.
I am dreaming of a new day,
with promises of hope;
with souls of happiness,
that no more have to cope.
Of things that will bring joy,
of things that will bring love;
when each day shines bright,
from the Love that's up above.
I'm dreaming of tomorrow,
when the reality takes place;
when we've no need of dreams,
for the blessed human race.

Don't waste your time on dreams
things forgotten half the time;
face reality instead
to dream, it's just a crime.

Dreams are great deceivers
most don't make much sense;
why give into fantasy?
it just makes the brain more dense.

Dreams are great pretenders
fluffy magic in your sleep;
if they're taken seriously
they may cause you to weep.

We don't recommend them
(that's me, myself and I);
they are troublemakers
I don't know just why.

Dreams are just delusions
that laugh and run away;
that hide in darker shadows
they never come your way.

I was once a dreamer
but they just passed me by;
and so I soon forgot them
I don't know just why.