There's a little place in the middle of my mind, it's a funny little place, and
I wish you could see inside.
The door to the little place is hard to find.
You think you can see it and then it's gone, moved a little down the way, a
little out of sight.
You can catch it, sometimes, when its guard is down.
The door to the little place inside my mind can be quite careless sometimes.
Once inside the little place in the middle of my mind, it's a little bit of
a mess, you'll find.
There's book cases filled to the top the room, the books wear dust jackets
covered in gloom.
There's a mantle peice above the flickering fire, it holds the framed
pictures of my life long desires.
Right in the middle of all the impossible dreams, there is a picture of you,
for any who can make it there to see.
The rest of place is a bit of a shambles, dust swirls in the light with
every move, not much is taken care of in the little place in the middle of my
mind, but your picture if pristine, it almost shines.
For in that little place in the middle of my mind, passed the elusive but
careless door, you’re the only thing that is ever sure, the only thing that I
totally adore.
In my little place, you're all that matters, not the thousands of books that
line the walls, nor the dreams on the mantel piece.
In my little place, when I choose to dare enter, I always know that you'll
be there, on the mantel piece, my one dream come true amongst all the gloom.
