| In the theatre of sleep
|
| Where no reason remains
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| Dreamers and drifters
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| Make their entrance onto the stage
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| Non-stop scenery changes
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| With promptings in the dark
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| Trapped in unremitting violence
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| As trees stripped of their bark
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| When they’re buried in your dream
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| The past is a foreign country
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| They do things differently there
|
| You’re back in the old schoolhouse
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| With rows and rows of chairs
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| Well it might be war or Christmas
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| With the tanks and guns and flares
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| Or a witch that wields her broomstick
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| The stars of your nightmare
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| When they’re buried in your dream
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| I was trapped on the edge of a waterfall
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| In an old riverboat
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| A proud queen washed up at last
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| She’s giving up the ghost
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| Slimy green water rising
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| I knew that I would die
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| I had no time to abandon ship,
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| The morning had arrived |