Fly just like a bird into the dark night,
Into the stars, into my heart--something I can't explain.
I can't escape.
I go outside and fall right down on the soft ground.
and wonder if my life turned out the way I wanted it to be.
The October eyes,
November dies,
The stars in these black skies.
Oh, what lies beneath my heart?
Can't even start to write this note in the sky of my dreams.
Oh, how it seems I am only made of clay,
So why do I so seldom say?
Every night and every day I can't tell who I am--
I try to keep my life in my pocket.
The key to electric dreams are pennies in sockets.