I'll turn a blind eye, open but blind,
I'll shut a deaf ear, shut nontheless,
I'll sing a bright song, but it will blind you not,
And you'll feel my heart beating though its a Hearing confess.

Ambition sat, on my heart and sank,
And it ran to my mind, filling it blank,
Bleeding ink, bleeding eyes, bleeding senses all dry,
The sounds draw your footsteps even though-
I turn a blind eye.

Don't we all hope this was all a dream?
And we shall wake up in a place where we have all been,
But what if all our senses, had slept in chaos' sweet song?
What if all this were a dream, a sweet dream all along?

-Charles G. Low
26. 08. 08