I think my logic is broken, and I’m sorry it seems,
My judgment is clouded by hopes and small dreams.
My reasoning is bent; I can’t seem to think straight,
But the bliss I am feeling makes it easy to wait.

To wait for a time like when I was young,
When clouds made shapes, and all the birds sung.
Monsters were chased out from under my bed,
No need to think twice about what I just said.

My logic is broken, but it seems I don’t mind,
I like my colors nameless, my stars unaligned.
So my thoughts are odd, they never make sense,
Where reasoning is soft, my dreams are intense.