Sitting here on my bed,
wearin' my tye-dye shirt and faded jeans
dreamin' about the by with the dazzling smile
that reminds me of a thousand sequins
and eyes that twinkle like the stars
in the clear night sky.
But he's only a dream,
a figment of my imagination.
He's not real.
I must convince myself of this.
He could never be real.
He's too...
dare I say it,
perfect
in almost every way.
No boy could be like this.
So you can see how I must think
there's no possible way
he can be real.
He can't be real.
Nothing but a dream.
A perfect dream.
My dream.