The light at the end of the tunnel may be you.
You stand there, you laugh at it, crying and your through.
Tell my imagination that it hardly isn't real.
Tell my philosophical mind it couldn't ever feel.
Tell me I was dreaming.
Hard skinned like the world that you insist is your goal.
I sit and I cry in time, laughing at it's coal.
Tell my infatuation that I shouldn't be hot.
Tell my miscalculation that your maybe a lot.
Tell me how to listen.
Blank eyes stare at my words you couldn't have said right.
Only a fool , a fools fast talk, asking for a fight.
Tell my investigation to be longing for peace.
Tell my misapprehension how to believe in man.
Tell me in a fashion.
To have compassion.
And I will.