The Truth of Fiction

Bounding behind the bushes of your favorite place to feel alive Dance upon the remains of the memories of those deep inside It's a smile upon the face of the ones pressing upon your temples Wishes bring about the hope that maybe the dream is just as simple Dip the bucket into the well of your soul and show us what you pull out Hanging by their harp strings, dangling about on every cloud What will we do when we come to find the villain and the hero are one and the same? When time's run out, your name's reached the head of the line and there's no one else to blame? You wish just once home would come back to you, you've had your fill of desolation You hate your bitter-sweet, oxymoron, paradoxical life The movie without film, the script without paper, the credit without pay Hypothetical reality, I hate you