If we ever become what we dream, and if the time pass and it made sense, I want them to know once it was just a dream. Once it was just a thought.
I want them to know it all started with a cigarette, it all began with laughs about being one when we were actually two.
When it all ends up, and we become memory in a few heads, I want them to spread the story that sounds fake and even us could not believe. I want them saying it was easy and good like licking an ice cream on wintery Berlin, like riding the bike while drinking a beer.
When it ends, I hope you know you’re always my dream.
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