how deep this hole is I've dug for myself;
I'm no longer certain
I have the strength
to climb up, out, or away.
But then I hear
echoes of music
from a summer's day long past --
"there must be some kinda way out of here,
said the joker to the thief;
There's too much confusion,
I can't get no relief..."
and I realize I'm not alone;
that other hearts have fallen
and other hands lifted them up and out again;
that these walls are only echoes
of another place and time;
just a picture of a thing I thought was true,
and holding it in my hand, I pull, and tear,
and walk through this illusion
into light.
* * *
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