| I had a funny dream the other night
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| I was floating in a cloud
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| I am floating happy not knowing nautical course
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| Tie a wristwatch in slipknots and dock at my porch
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| Time is of no essence, the presence becomes presents
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| Peasants become pheasants and soar past acceptance
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| Current currencies worthless, fodder for feeding purses
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| With iron clad words I solder together verses
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| I’m trippin like I’m eatin' the fungi
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| Leaving me cornered like the puss that crusts in ones eye
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| Listen
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| There’s no light, just never ending night
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| And the weather’s like a hurricane when land is in its sight
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| The sand within my hourglass could vanish any moment
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| And I’m trying to read the signs within the symbols and the omens
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| From the motions of the sea, to the color of the dark
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| This ocean of my dreams was more than cover for the sharks
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| Recovering these parts is like discovering my art
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| I wonder as I wander through my heart
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| Cus it starts a dream defferred
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| A clipped wing on a white dove
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| Seems absurd, a smudge on a white glove
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| Not seen nor heard like screams from the night’s lungs
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| Cling to words so much that you won’t budge
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| Fiends in herds who yearn for the white crumbs
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| Getting high like the city sky when it lights up
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| Thats what the night does
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| It hits your mind with the right stuff
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| To keep you blind with a slight buzz
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| The mind is like a puzzle that could never be completed
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| We scuffle through it’s pieces, strugglin for peace it’s
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| Hard for us to sleep and even harder to awake
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| The image in my mirror’s gettin harder to relate
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| I see me harbouring my hate and bartering with grace
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| But I couldn’t be farther from my faith, or my face
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| Through this waste of my mind, may I find direction
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| I’m a waste of my time if I don’t find it’s lessons
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| So all welcome to this generous helping of self reflection
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| Night thoughts brought to life with incandescence
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| As the world twirls on the tip of our index
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| Staring into space one’s vision is endless
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| But glaring at the ground you can see where the end is
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| So just close pupils and be pupils and listen
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| The headset’s your desk the test is what’s missin
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| Disect these notes of quotes of keys written |