How do little lights turn into demons' eyes in the darkness? How can favored toys become the silhouettes of ghosts and monsters? How can happy dreams transform into a nightmare so fast If one imagines that? How can a reflection lurk behind a mirror with plans of its own? How can one's perception soon become unclear when all alone? Maybe that's the reason you're living in the deep end: You doubt your own self, well, then what can you believe in? Where can your mind go if you're not in control? It's a fine line, when imagination stands upon a knife, Swept into your fears with the returning tide, Fear so real you think you could drown. And your shadow grows, so big you think that you have been swallowed whole. I wonder, can it grow If the light isn't close? Thrown into the world, you learn to play your role in the drama. Now that you're grown-up, you let your kid fears go, but keep your trauma. Running from your demons, not wanting to dig deeper - Too scared of the roots you left buried in the graveyard Where your innocence and freedom went to die. It's a fine line, when imagination stands upon a knife. Take it from your back and turn to face the tide. Use its strength to turn it around, Because any change you'll ever make will start with one simple thing a child understands. So learn again: How they find a castle where you see a tree - no magic required. How their stubby arms transform to eagles' wings and take them higher. How can they begin to see a brighter world where they stand? Well, they imagine that.