I've got a pocket full of tomorrows
In a pair of jeans with a rip
They only trickle out so when asked for time to borrow
I don't mind stopping even a little bit.
They tell me the stress of a job
Is worth a barely liveable wage
Something tells me I'm being robbed
Too tired to even sit and write a page.
Talking to myself as a child about the real
He says I shouldn't shake a hand on such a raw deal.

The same kid dreaming of a Tall-tale Town,
With a train blowing up cotton candy clouds,
I bet most people don't remember that now
Writing in physics class about a nonphysical town.
Now I write to slow time to think myself whole,
Time just being the distance over the speed
Sitting light years away, letting my story unfold
Until I drag myself back down to take the lead.
The stories may appear to some eyes with less fantasy
But I keep trying to write lines that defy gravity

There's a world out there flowing through the moon and sun
I won't stop dreaming until that world is done