"Small dreams", some people call them.
 But they did not feel small,
 The day we chose the pictures
 That hang along that wall,

 The day we bought this furniture,
 These fixtures, and that shelf;
 So much that now surrounds me, like
 Extensions of myself

 We put out for the world to see,
 And if they liked, to choose:
 We knew, of course, the risks,
 The things that we now stood to lose --

 But money wasn't our real goal,
 Believing profits come
 From doing what you love, which now
 Seems naive, or -- just dumb

 Within this empty place, that once
 Was bursting at the seams --
 Where all that's left's to lock the door
 On all of my

 Small dreams