| And I have seen the world of dreams,
|
| Fresh-flown through the trees then dropped off at the curb
|
| Alive, have seen the world awake,
|
| And I don’t know which I deserve.
|
| So when sleep nightly comes to me,
|
| With all of these warm blankets piled on my back,
|
| I’ll hike to see the church of dreams,
|
| Where all of the shutters are painted black.
|
| And it seems like that’s real until the time I awake,
|
| And at midnight the moonlight reflects as the lake
|
| Is shining at me, until night takes it away.
|
| There’s one world in the distance, one world in the way,
|
| And not one can stay.
|
| And I have seen the wood of dreams,
|
| Carved grainless and clean with a sweep of one hand,
|
| And have been happy with the leaves on my body when laid under land.
|
| So when sleep finally comes to me Because it comes for the sleek like it comes for the lame
|
| I’ll sink beneath a weight of dreams so full and complete that I’m pushed from
|
| my name.
|
| And it seems like that’s real until I fall asleep,
|
| And then we load up the car and drive far to some street
|
| Where a new life awaits, until day takes it away.
|
| There’s one world in the distance, one world in the way,
|
| And not one can stay |