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Summer evening on the beach at Skagen. The painter and his wife., by Peder Severin Krøyer
My name is Beck

My name is Beck

You

The real life I live is in my head
It’s the thoughts I have before I go to bed
I replay every conversation I've ever had.
Im not sure if that's good or bad.
I wish I could speak freely without hesitation
My mind is an imagination station.
The thoughts are sent to far away lands
Far from my grasp, far from my hands.
Lands I can not reach but I desire
I want you in my arms, lift my spirit higher.
Hurry my memories are about to expire.
Words aren't clear when you're around
I hear you whisper and I love that soft sound
Pick me up, save me, lift me off the groud
Happiness is not something that I’ve found

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