like memories of a faded daydream,
things i think i saw. i cling
so tightly to what i hope is real
it’d be my end if it were wrong

it seems so easy on the face of it,
to find out all there is about You.
surely i could want it more
than i do, to see You one day

what exactly do i see
why do i say that i believe
who is it that i think i know
why don’t i always live like i believe

be real to me
empty

what is time, if not just time alone
to piece together all the wisps
which give so many all they need to see you
as real as they see me

and what if i could for an instant
look deep into the truth and find
a wealth of sorrow for this one
searching for proof

what exactly do i see
why do i say that i believe
who is it that i think i know
why don’t i always live like i believe

be real to me
empty

and what if You could make me
merely glimpse the overwhelming one
who’d die to show me reality
in all the hope that i’d dreamed

be real to me
empty