Footsteps cross the schoolyard, holding hands with a mirage
You don’t listen, you do not exist
Mute of all suggestion, the broken doll in question
Through shattered mirror, empty caravel

You mirage mirage, that sings to me
Or maybe stopped hearing, you do not exist

Two tracks through the desert, sad eyes, little puppet
You don’t listen, you do not exist
Happy not to notice, the room, the traps, the focus
Where you cannot see reflections from within

You mirage mirage, that sings to me
Or maybe stopped hearing, you do not exist

Or maybe stopped hearing, you do not exist

Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage
Holding hands with a mirage