She dances in the world of the dead
A world much for fruitful than the one she is forced to exist in
For they spin her tales of times gone by
A time I think she wishes she’d known
And she hears disembodied voices and asks me if I hear them too
Sometimes I do and sometimes I don\'t
But it\'s easier to tell her no because it feeds the fantasy
And you can tell when it\'s getting bad again
Because the wishful stares into the distance are a tell all sign
And my dad says that as long as she\'s happy it doesn\'t matter
Even if he doesn\'t believe in it himself
But I often wonder if one day just like my mum
I\'ll be lost to the voices that we hear in the wind