Hannah doesn't dream,
That's what I've heard at least
She lies in a small cold bed
Where sugar plums aren't dancing,
Closing her eyes behind her head
She sleeps until the morning fills
The room with anything but black
Standing up, another day, just trapped.

Hannah doesn't dream,
Not a sheep, a blink, or wink.
But last night she made a song
To the drips of the bathroom sink.
She told me of a real place,
Unlike the dancing going through my skull
It sounds like home, only more magical.

Hannah doesn't dream,
She sees the beauty in the awake,
The sky, the sun, the leaves,
The whisper as the wind cuts through the trees.
Hannah doesn't dream,
She doesn't need to it seems