In my dreams he follows me
In my dreams he keeps me company
In my dreams I lay down slowly
And I feel him softly hold me
I do not have love
I do not have love
I do not have love
I do not have love
And the Short-Lived Being Machines say:
"I get around on the lucidness of sound
And I sit and I wait until no one is around
My vision breaks into countless little flakes
Until I, overcome, dive into my inner lake
I see a tree; I wonder 'does it see me?'
And I sit and I wait until I know what to be
And after all, if I'm always bound to fall
Into bliss and despair, I must know how to stand tall
We turn the dial for a symphony so tactile
That it hums and it strums, so we listen for a while
I feel the wood of a long forgotten tree
And I think to myself how it gave its life for me"
