Give me your hand.

You feel that vibration in my chest?

That's called a heartbeat,

and as long as that machine

is pumping that red matter through my veins,

it goes through to my brain,

fueling the synapses and images

and sensations that form into

flashes of you.

You're just flashes of light and 

electricity in my head.

But they're so crystal clear.

You're so real and tangible to me,

that it's the only thing I cling to

when the rest of me is a blur

in the ever-changing world.

And amongst the change, 

you're the one thing I want to stay constant.

You're crystal clear as a lake,

and my reflection beams back to me,

when I see.

And it's all light. It's all light.

Figments of each other's imaginations.

Because nothing is really real.

It's all empty space.

So you're the only thought I want to linger on,

when the night falls,

when the leaves fall,

when I fall.