"Wishful Thinking" as written by Hartwig Schierbaum, Bernd Goessling and Wolfgang Michael Neuhaus....
Into the night
Still falls the rain
Even the dogs stay home tonight
Out on the streets
Going nowhere
Just one direction in my thoughts
Love can be magic
It can be a game
Sometimes it's tragic
And sometimes a shame
Words were my bullets
Emotion my gun
I was a runner
Now I'm on the run
Sometimes I wish that you were dead
That is because you haunt me so
I wasn't right to let you go away
I try to kill the pain inside
But you are always on my mind
No matter where I go or stay
Sometimes I dream my time away
And we're together again
But I know that can never be
And all my hopes are in vain
You were my treasure
That I didn't know
You were the sun in my life
Thought I was dying
When I realized
There's just one chance to survive.


Lyrics submitted by Ice

"Wishful Thinking" as written by Hartwig Schierbaum Bernd Goessling

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Wishful Thinking song meanings
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    General CommentWeak dreams
    Dark corridors of PS 42
    Roofs. Rat-throated pigeons
    Oh time—be merciful
    Throw me beneath your humanity of cars
    Feed me to giant gray skyscrapers
    Exhaust my heart to your bridges
    I discard my harp, in futility

    And that incredibly queer counterman who dished out the food
    Threw it at you
    1-2-3—slammed it
    Had a languid frank expression—straight in your eyes
    Like a 1930’s lunch cart heroine
    And at the steam table itself, labored coolly
    A junky looking Chinese with an actual stocking in his hair
    As if they just shanghaied him off the foot of Commercial Street
    Before the ferry building was up
    Dreamed it was the 1860 gold rush
    And on rainy days, you felt they had ships in the back room

    I didn’t foresee what you felt
    And were you prepared?
    To go where?
    Like an eye in a black cloud in a dream?
    Where we kiss and hug America under bed sheets
    Where there are 25,000 mad comrades
    All together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale
    On top of Cold Mountain, the lone moon
    Lights the whole clear cloudless sky
    We love this priceless treasure

    Gaiser, Kerouac, Ginsberg and Snyder (paraphrased)
    sillybunnyon September 30, 2006   Link

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