The Foreboding Sense of Impending Happiness

By your heart strings I'm hanging from a dream,
Gently swinging in the warm autumn breeze.
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up, no more.
Tip toeing along a strand of your hair suspended between,
These thoughts and actions miles above reality.
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Come look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up...
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up···
Look at the scars, smother a heart, opening up.