Dreams uncut
Dreams that are raw
Dreams that always seem to come
From out of the bottom drawer
.

Imagination takes a bow
It appears to know exactly how
My dreams will start and end.
Sometimes a friend
Sometimes a foe
But sometimes they start where...I don't want to go.

The choice is not mine so I don't spend my time
In worrying.
The hurrying dreams will dine on me..fine by me..
..Nothing I can do.

If I stay awake the dreams cannot take hold
But in sleeping they fold me
In cold hands they hold me
Until I cry out..
..'what on this earth was that dream all about'


When I die..will I dream?
Or is death just a dream that I've dream't of before?
Is the dream uncut..but a memory..a part of me?
Something in the heart of me
says,
'yes'