I have this box of splendorous dreams
Of tender schemes so filthy-pure

...dreams of dreaming
...dreams of living
...dreams of shining
...dreams of screaming
...dreams of giving
...dreams of dying

From it I am taking dreams
And forging broken, shattered schemes

These dreams, they see
And flee through me
And I see me and you see thee,
And dreams are me as dreams are we
Through me, and thee, they dream
And with their bodies see me scream
And all 'round me,
These dreams do shatter stitch-ed seams.

These dreams of love and dreams of skies and dreams of loving, living lies,
These dreams are yours and his and theirs and hers and its and ours and mine

What marv'lous creatures are these dreams who here upon my visage gaze!
What wondrous features have they in the light and dark of nights and days!

They touch and play and kiss and dance and love and sing and fly and dream!
They break and cut and bite and jump and hate and growl and swim and scream!

The fire slips betwixt their lips, and by their ears, between their thighs
The water dances on their hips and 'cross their fears and in their eyes

They glide and gleam across my hand and through my ebbing, whirling mind
They drift and fly across the sands, the grains that hold together time

They twist and turn so gracefully upon their silken, goss'mer strings
And on their tight-rope act of daze they sing and
Glide and
Ride and
Glow and
Show and
Die and
Fly and
Mate and
Hate and be...and...and...

See,
I've got a lovely box of dreams
Sitting here,
So filthy-pure...