Take this fist upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are super wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away because hope is a bird now
In a night, or in a day, it doesn't matter to me
In a vision, or in none, but I prefer to not be blind
Is it therefore the less gone? Whatever that means?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream. Braaaaaah

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore, because the surf never heard of the Geneva convention
And I hold within my six hands
Grains of the 18 golden sands-- you know from prince of persia
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,(that's what she said)
While I weep--while I weep!
And sweep, because the floor is *****
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
If not then I should use a shake weight.
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave? As in the ocean kind
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream? Braaaaaah