Otherwise

Where, where does the dreaming go
When when it hits reality
It turns to dust and pains me so
Though I have known, always, I
Have but fooled myself with foolish
Optimistic thoughts, although
I have, in kind,  no right to think them.

Oh, the luxury of double life
Of those who make mine up, you know;
And yet, there they do reside, the ones I'd
Harbored trust in, foolishly
Resigned myself to thinking there was
More to this.

The fact in tow, in dragging, labored
Consequence is that
I have no right to know,
Or think I know,
Or to expect a thing at all,
And it's my fault
To have believed it otherwise.