The poet is strumming his guitar
Performing for everyone's desire
He can't hear the wind talking back
Obnoxious laughter is heard instead
Eyes are glinting at him
Mocking him with a mean stare

Is this real?

Immaturity is an illusion, he says
It hides the fact that you've changed
Changed like a blossoming tulip into an ugly weed
Change is real, my friend
Said the wind, with a chuckle in his breath

Now, my friend knows you have some things against him
He says they're nothing but pitiful excuses
Floating past the truth like an airplane in the clouds
When he sleeps he dreams of you, wind

Are these dreams ever to become true?

Reality is his need, his weakness
Reality is the power to turn you back into that flower
Reality is just a song
But the songs reality changes everything

And change is real, after all.