Everyday I wake with a hope and a dream,
that there will come a knock on my door.
When I open it, there you will be,
smiling, holding flowers
waiting for me to let you in.
The seconds turn to minutes, to hours
day to night.
There is no knock,
it's never you
there are no flowers or smile meant for me.
You have not a clue where to look.
But still I hope,
still I dream
for something that will never be.
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