And so I think of the lake outside Vienna
Also the Buddhist Monastery, on the outskirts of Berlin
Both being places which I visited via virtual reality
So should I begin another story
Take a trek around my mind and my music
Or travel from Lisbon to Sagres, staying by the coast
Should I play that kind of jazz
Which reality never would allow me
Or should I be more concrete
Rebuild memories of listening to Lyle Lovett
As I played with oil pastels, and moulded clay
His absence from making music may be my metaphor
For what has gone missing
Or what was never even there in the first place
Which is maybe an inch or so nearer to the truth
