From behind a stained glass window, a colorful blur is all that I see.
A shattered view of the world, a shattered view of me.
The truth is hidden by shadows, my ideas are not complete, facts are lost to feeling.
Time trips and slides, but I磎 not dreaming.
Maybe that磗 why I got the wrong impression of you.
Maybe that磗 why I got the wrong impression of you.
