Birds in their time

Snatched by roaring winds

To dream of whatever is there

 

In the shadow is a haunted face

As another lies awake waiting now

 

Water, rising, frogs, fish, fins, brushing

The legs as they passed by

 

The hazy days of summer

And all that racket

From next door

Wish I could sleep!

 

To dream is to sleep

To sleep is to dream

The mystery ends with staring strange

Eyes waiting at King's Cross

 

A succubus or an incubus to catch

Where dreams were unfulfilled and snatched

Journeys going nowhere

Prostestations are in vein for to sleep is to dream

 

Scrawled in ragged weed

A haunting, a party, a beautiful country

And swingers seeking paradise in dreamy dreams.