When others speak of love
I don't know who they are
I don't know how they really feel
and I don't know if they've cried.
How can I share their feelings?
How can I trust their joy?
I really want to fly with them,
oh, I really want to soar,
but if they lie or if they're blind
or if their love does not fulfill,
then I'll leap alone from the precipice
for I see you there upon the hill.
When others moan and thrash about
I look on them in awe.
I think it must be wonderful
to let loose and express it all.
They look at me and say I'm not
a part of their grand parade.
To them I am not rock...but stone,
and I weep as they pass me by.
Why can't they sense my pain?
Still I know you wait in marbled glory,
at least I see you standing there
upon the hill, in the dream, love unfulfilled.