What if we are sleeping,
And nothing is real or true?
We\'re merely ebbing and flowing
Along a dreamer\'s avenue.
The happiness within our souls,
Some peace and joy expressed,
Is sipped from the deepest bowls
Until its sweetness fades to rest.
Then while we are in slumber,
Our hearts may break from love that fell.
Because what kind of dreamers would we be
If all was always well?