| Happy again for the precious time I steal
|
| For a minute there I thought my dream was real
|
| Sometimes you come to me as a flock of birds
|
| Sometimes you come dressed as Allen Ginsberg
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| Until the mornin' light the same dream every night
|
| In my dreams you are alive and breathin'
|
| Standin' at my door like St. Steven
|
| I just can’t break this it seems
|
| In my dreams, in my dreams
|
| Sometimes a bolt of light comes through the sadness
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| That there is a reason for the madness
|
| Somehow it stirs a joy within me
|
| I understand that the root of pain is beauty
|
| Until the morning light the same dream every night
|
| In my dreams you are alive and breathin'
|
| Standin' at my door like St. Steven
|
| I just can’t face this it seems
|
| In my dreams, in my dreams
|
| Old grief has favored me with a thousand sittings
|
| A series of portraits that go on and on and on
|
| On and on and on and on
|
| On and on and on
|
| In my dreams you are alive
|
| In my dreams you are alive
|
| In my dreams you are alive
|
| In my dreams you are alive
|
| In my dreams you are alive and breathin'
|
| Standin' at my door, not speakin'
|
| I just can’t break this it seems
|
| In my dreams, in my dreams |