Buble's Bubble

The aisle, choosing cabbages
The aisle, she's in a white gown

Piling tins in a shopping cart
Stacking bricks, creating castles in the air

Checking out, paying for what I've got
Unseeing of the one smiling there, paying the price

When you can't deal with reality
and the imagination takes over

and imagination blows its trumpets down
the aisles of reality

The cacophony so loud
You miss the whisper of real breeze

And the real messages get drowned out
By the imaginary world
A fragile Buble, indeed.