You
spoke my language in this foreign land
Familiar secrets shared
in a sinfon bed
Imagination flowing through
his ancient hands
He painted just my fantasy in red,
a bright red
I call him
Santa
Fe
Someone to dance with
on a rainy day
He will bring me all the empty prisons
To be sure of what I'm only
not so sure about
So can he just be my illusion that I created with
confusion?
He wears a tall top hat filled
with secrets of our souls
You pull them out as he pulls
you in through the secret hole
I call him
Santa
Fe
Someone to bleed with
on this lovely day
He will bring me all the empty reasons to be sure
of what I'm only not so sure about
Will he take this grand illusion at his left to make his own
conclusion?
True or false, can you feel his pulse
The warmth he carries, really varies
With the name of the game
He will bring me all these empty reasons to be sure
of what I'm really not so sure about
In the end it leads to sud den madness
when he takes these reasons
Greed, some sanity in to them
Can he just be my illusion?
I created with confusion
Will he take this, oh, this grand illusion
He will paint his own conclusion
In red, with me, in bed
Does it really matter?
I love me, I'll see what I want to see
And I'll never be free
You