Some dreams are
Quite plain and simple
But when come true
Leave you helpless and crippled
Few things remain
Only in closed fists
When fist opened
Dreams become fog and mist
Often small things
Matter the most
Selfish people
Murmur the toasts
But as weather turns
Slowly and slowly
Strength comes to
Frazzle and frailly
Often freaks make
Everything in order
As the time we have
Becomes shorter and shorter
At last comes
The final day
Mixed feelings of hatred
And of gay
All the hard work
Evoked in one go
All dreams depend
On the final show
