Don't Come 'Round Again, Missouri

Can you force someone to swallow your happiness?
Can you conduct a ball of sunshine and push it into their heads?

Or is happiness chewed or nibbled on?
And beams of light come in in shards through a blinded window?

Can you feel happy for someone else?
Can the telepathic energy sanctify their world?

To know you're out there looking to me tonight
in your corner of bleak despair
when you snatched me up so I wouldn't cry
creates a hallow hull out of me.

If you could raise my eyes from the allergenic carpet
and made me not live in self-imposed illness,
could I meet your hand from across the glass and breathe on glass and mark a smiley face
that you can carry from across that IPhone screen?

You're not that far from heaven.
I looked at you under the sun's rise.

You're not that far from heaven.
You're not that far from perfect.

In some other universe, there may be some other law of gravity,
something that says that you are tiny and contrived.
But there is this dimension if you can really see it,
on the different layers of the horizon,
that rests on one of its bronze stated planes.
If you squint, oh you almost miss it every time,
but if you catch that one star floating on the distance, you will see an immense solar strata, and that grass blade of galaxy
is yours, is your own, and it's where you are Venus or Aphrodite, the Milky Way's eye reflecting an exotic astral grace.

I would like to make you happy.
I think you did that when you loved me out of shadow.
But at least you hear how much more you mean than all the earthbound can see.
And maybe that's enough for me to say "Goodnight" and go to sleep.