Green Light District
Location
Each and every time I think of you
My thoughts become a little more untrue
Until one day I'm sure you'll be
No more real than Jay Gatsby's Daisy.
Still, I was surprised to hear
That someone else's thoughts of you were fear
It seems that it is not only adoration
That can skew one's thoughts for its duration.
How strange that what is falsely full to me
Is to another the illusion of empty
I am uncertain which is worse
One is empty joy, but the other, empty hurt.