Last night you came to me inside of a dream
And you took me to the room where you cry yourself to sleep
You unbuttoned your blouse and I could see where another man touched you

I turned away knowing that it was wrong
You were someone else's all along
Then I remembered that it was a dream

The next time you came to me inside of a dream
And you took me to the room where you cry yourself to sleep
I felt you were testing me and I was being judged
You unbuttoned your blouse and said "This isn't about you at all

This time I stayed, knowing that it was wrong
The ceiling reflected the love that we made
And the painting of Saint Margaret wept in vain

When I awoke the next morning I had a sick feeling in my head
Knowing that I destroyed the trust of a friend
And I pleasured myself with his woman in the room where nothing happened

The next time you came to me inside of a dream
The Painting of Saint Margaret was in the fire.
You were on fire.
The room was on fire.
I could no longer deny that I had crossed an imaginary line.

I walked away knowing that it was wrong
You were someone else's all along
Then I remembered that it was a dream

I woke up the next morning and the sun was shining again
I reveled in my small moral victory of inaction
Knowing full well the love i had for you was real and i buried it
In the nothingness of my heart.
In the nothingness of my heart.