When the clock strikes twelve,
on the eve of that day,
the clouds will part
and reveal the full moon.
And in that instant,
reality, as I know it,
will become a dream.
The nightmare begins.
On the night of the full moon,
we will be worlds apart.
On one side, sunshine,
the other, darkness.
And once that happens,
the happiness,
the one that I have to come to know,
will become a dream.
The nightmare begins.
Under the waning moon,
where one normally
goes crazy and celebrates,
I will look up to the moon,
then cry and weep.
I will not dance and play,
but lie out and glare at
the beauty that is also misfortune.
While I sit there,
memories, thoughts, pictures
of you will pass through my mind.
The more I think, the darker it gets.
Gray clouds obstruct the moon,
the sky starts to spit and laugh at me.
And for every drop,
that hits my face,
a tear will slide down my cheek.
And for every tear I shed,
reality will become a dream.
Dreams become nightmares.
Nightmares then become reality.
The Nightmare Begins.
