I can hear your screams
...
in my dreams
as you tumble out
dressed in your Sunday's best
put my sanity to test
harsh sunlight
in the eyes of my windows
...
in my dreams
the mailman knocks
demons tumble from my mailbox
knee-high in woolen socks
to dance
a dance of delight
...
in my dreams
the faceless men
speak on my train ride in
their skin fading
to reveal snow
on an empty television set
I have been watching for years
...
in my dreams
I am never quite sure
if it was him or her
that served my dinner
of fig leaves and disease
snatching wishes
from a swelling breeze
...
in my dreams
I never know if you're real
walking knives up my skin
it all begins
to take me back there
in my waking nightmare
...
in my dreams