How lifeless must feel One who does not dream He must have sadness Rooted in his soul He must bear ill will towards his mind For not frolicking the verdant fields of imagination Whilst in sleep The most wonderful time of rest With no impossibilities A few nights every month He must be dull from having to live in the world of the possible Never tasting the bliss of the fantastical He is made all the more bitter by having had a taste of it Before it was so cruelly stripped from him
Once, as a boy he had a dream He was soaring through the skies Faster than sound Rockets strapped to his shoes He could go where he pleased, as he pleased It was amazing Even as he woke his spirits were high He had not been constrained by the laws of the physical world And that dream had been beautiful However, that had only made him even more bitter
It is so cruel to have one taste heaven only to be sent to hell And every time he woke Dreamless He grew dark and resentful Blaming the world because he had nothing else to blame He sunk to a pitiful place Where joy and wonder Were a very rare occurrence And he hoped very deeply Just once That before he died he could have one last dream