Part II of Omitting My Confessions

Look up to the paper moon some time,
The one that hangs over the cardboard trees.
I know you think its all make believe,
But it wouldn’t be if you believed in me.

If you warmed up your glass heart enough,
You’d know you’re not such a bad tin man.
You let me into your world bit by bit,
And I oiled your ways with an unused can.

I’ve been too cowardly,
but I’ve acted so tough,
I needed some courage;
you saw through my bluff.

And I followed the yellow-brick road
to find your aching heart.
You never knew I loved you,
Not even at the start.

Our friend’s got his reasons,
For being so wrong.
For a man who’s brain is straw
He’s been pretty true all along.

So make this my ode to a tin man,
Though things fell through in the end.
Make this my acceptance of people,
And the way life has been.

Maybe Dorothy’s not in Kansas,
but homes not far away.
Maybe we're just finding bends,
and still walking in straight lines.

Our dreams are so much bigger,
than even we can comprehend,
and these poppies are working hard,
to make us just give in.

But you're not so rusted anymore,
and you're learning you have a heart;
because you can't hear it doesn't mean,
that you lack the ability to love.

Though things are long since gone,
just an apparition, not a dream,
Since Dorothy's gone back home to Kansas,
and since we went our separate ways...

I have to tell you one last time, tin man,
that I can never move on from this.
I can't ever deny I love you,
and I can't say your not what i'll miss.