I'll tell myself it isn't true
and, in my fantasies, shall live,
and I will patch my world anew
and all things will be mine to give,

and from my sighs I'll make the breeze,
my high hopes will become the skies,
I'll fashion, from these tears, the seas
and sunshine from my scalding eyes.

All locked-up hearts - I'll set them free
to frollic in my foaming tide
and in this Eden, she will be
my love, my sweetheart and my bride.

This broken heart, which dreams may mend,
though heavy still, shall sink no more.
Its gravity will seal its end:
to form my planet's molten core.

And though Jerusalem may dip
to lift the real world heaven-high
I'll watch it as a distant ship
on my horizon, passing by.

Though Judgement may allow me through
to heaven's realm, I'll let it go.
Though she'll be there among the Few,
I'll tell myself it isn't so.