But I Can't

I thought I could travel among the hives without smoking the bees,
I thought I could stick the wire to my tongue,
I thought I could wear white while baking a chocolate cake,
I thought I could speed through the yellow light,
I thought I could be near you.
But I can't.

I thought I could grasp a hot muffin pan with bare hands,
I thought I could sip scalding tea.
I thought I could drink after a child with a cold,
I thought I could make the half and half last one more cup.
I thought I could be around you.
But I can't.

I thought I could go another mile on E,
I thought I could do with six hours of rest.
I thought I could jump from one platform to the next,
I thought I could pet the dog that barked at everybody,
I thought I could be near you.
But I can't.

I thought I could note the texture of your sweater,
I thought I could hear the voice but not the words,
I thought I could laugh my way through wounds.
I thought I could be near you.
But I can't.