Deuce Deuce

I could be what you want me to be
But it wouldnt be me
You want an image formed in the clouds of your childhood
and though this is what you see before you
It is veiled through desparate eyes

ITS TEN THOUSAND SCREAMING VOICES

all begging for an identity of their own
and i have found mine in this haystack

you call existance

i call it love

and yet you still seek your worldly image
that exists in your mind

and in your mind alone

Though my eyes may function as well as circus glass
they still see through your drawn curtains