These are the dreams of an inspired individual,
colorful and never dull,
creating youth from the statues that line overgrown gardens
finding truth in Medusa and her eyes.

Underneath the clock at Waterloo awaiting the soldiers return.

It's a fight to the death
last one to draw breath wins
I draw an ace from the hole.

And who's going to sit at the feet of my God listening to bible stories for eternity?
count me out.

When I wake if I do
who will know?
everyone's watching
the
'Nine o-clock show'

I'll sleep on
until the dreams
have all gone
and the snow
disappears,

years pass
we're all
grown in the greenhouse,
glass
glints off the sun

No one is home.