hmm... My fantasies are as secret rhymes lying on the bedroom rug That when thought out loud make my fingers dance so proud spelling feelings for the speaking which would echo through the crowd. Dipping my day-dreams that are dripping colors to my soul and hands rubbed in turpentine dreams that polish my self-esteem that's used as brushes to paint the pictures of where I plan on being, Because love is not in speaking but in meaning As it is when I get excited about dreaming of a life that I'm now loving even more then I am breathing.