Its days like these where I envy your bed, it keeps you nice and warm and sees you daily. Oh how I envy your straw, it gets to touch your lips wich are warm yet raw. How I envy your dreams, its a place you go to hide and forget. What more is tgere to envy than everything you touch or hold? I am just a dream an unthinkble* idea wich is far away but wont stay. What more is there to envy but everything you touch or hold?
