An-

ge-

l

cried

last

ni-

ght

it

was

some-

thing

in

her

dre-

ams

Car-

ving

pic-

tures

on

her

bed-

room

wa-

ll

She

won-

ders

what

it

me-

ans

but

gets

b-

y

in-

sid-

e

by

say-

ing

it's

no-

t

r-

eal

There's

no

re-

ason

to

con-

fuse

my-

sel-

f

no

mat-

ter

what

it

se-

ems

An-

g-

el

lied

last

ni-

ght

to

am-

pu-

tate

her

fe-

ars

With

no

ques-

tion

she

ex-

humes

her-

sel-

f

from

poss-

i-

bil-

i-

t-

i-

e-

s

Close

you-

r

eye-

s

it's

fi-

ne

by

say-

ing

i-

t's

not

real

There's

no

re-

ason

to

for-

give

my-

sel-

f

no

mat-

ter

what

it

serms

If

I

could

gro-

w

some

win-

gs

I'd

fly

aw-

a-

y

home