A part of me dreams in pictures on screens
and some of me sits at reality's door.

Knock
Knock
who's there?

I heard a bird 'it was no nightingale, but  a
storm petrel looking for a ship under sail
on the high sea
and a part of me knows it was only a dream.

I see reality
so easy to ignore
where some of me
sits at reality's door.

Knock
Knock
who's there?

The beggarman's wife sees reality,
life is no dream  
for her.

But nothing's the same as the pain that you feel when you're poor, down at heel and the baby is crying for milk.

Occasionally I wake and
take a quick look outside
to see who is knocking,
there's
no one
only the wind slapping
at me,
reality stings
a nightingale sings
the storm petrel rides
on the wind.