She's a moving picture gliding through the silver screen
I see her, but I can't quite touch her as she moves
from scene to scene.
Her two-dimensional glow overloads all my senses
And the critics pan her in confidence and self-defense.
But if they tried to see what I have seen
Then only looking back would reveal it's only a movie...
She's not what she seems.
She's a yellow light ever showing caution signs
Shining brightly at night, should I run or be left behind.
We're standing at life's intersection hoping that I see her change
Would I stop to think, or start again... another friend.
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But if I tried to see just what she means
When she looks out on the world as some sort of movie...
She's not what she seems.
And if I tried to see her as a stream on a mountain side
Would she be so clear I could see through her
or would she play on the rocks she hides?
And if I tried to touch her, she'd send a chill right up my spine
And if I were to fall, would she hold me up or let me slide
into her demise...
She's not what she seems.
©1990 James (Gary) Geniesse
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