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the sad face of dreamers,
waking to the life that passed them by.
they follow forever
the flame that holds their eyes.
they march in place, straight to their graves.
they fold their hands,
whispers in the air.
what fills our eyes,
is what wakes our lives.
they kick the dust, just to remember the light.

the poorly drawn believers,
fading in the towing of the tide.
they sink here forever,
they insure their names,
in spots on graves.
in idle hand, of idle days.
as we fill our lives, we all realize
what fills our days is what becomes our lives...

sail on quick, fly past the world, find me a love
now, sail on quick, fly past the world, find me a love
so sail on quick, fly past the world, find me a love...
... Wax On Radio
      ... Today I Became a Realist