Realities all got us in a spin
Winning little children in
Like moths to a candlestick
Burnt and hanging from the wick
Oh this wicked little world

The little children start to dream
Things to reality can't be seen
So it clouds over the imagination
Eating away at their delusions
Tasty and bright against the harsh lines

My poor little children gone
Empty shells just going along
Heads void and spirits cold
They're so young and yet so old

And I want to kiss their eyes
Make them believe the lies
Make them make believe
And let the garish reality leave
Well enough alone
I say

But children aren't meant to play
Sitting in chairs with straight backs
Watching gray skies and teachers lie
With truths so true you wouldn't know it
Whispering in small voices
Gravity makes you fall
And grass is green and skies are blue
What horrors to put our children through

Why think
When they say your thoughts are not
As they are supposed to be
Because the grass is pink not green
And I love to float around carelessly
Blowing kisses that drift through time streams
And it's more beautiful than anything
I have ever really seen

So children don't die
And call them dreams not lies
Because I'll always believe in believing
A new way of giving instead of receiving
Like painting people's faces into stars
Brushing away the scars
Of their lives lost in realism