That Tired Old Routine

Yeah...my mind loves to dream.

And here we are again.

Back to those flights of fancy,

those love-struck dreams that invade 

my conscious.

I don't even care anymore.

Go ahead, little mind!

Frolic in the red roses,

from the purple lilacs to the aconites!

Don't mind the thorns!

Simply run!

Run! Run! Run!

Let yourself be open to the pain!

It is only another day of love for you.

And you love having them.

You have them so much,

to feed your euphoria and your fantasies.

You wander in love in reckless abandon.

Envision a world where I am at peace with this woman,

where I hold her hand so tenderly, 

where my lips meet hers so softly,

where our embrace is ever-lasting.

Go and have those dreams,

while my heart is torn to pieces in the end.

Why worry about it? 

There's no reason to pick it up.

It's already a mess from the last time you dreamed so joyously.

Go and dream, little mind.

I do not care for such feelings anymore,

but obviously you desire to dream and to love,

to have me and her in your aspirations.

So I will let you dream,

while I shall decay into the dark.

Go and fly, little mind,

while my heart continues to die.