Finally my day has stopped
Head on pillow, pill popped
Floating into my favourite time.
Pull up the duvet, feel divine.
Now I just have to wait for it,
As I inevitably toss and turn for a bit.
That drifting feeling washes over,
I finally become one with the covers.
Will there be demons or monsters within?
Or visions of scantily clad women?
Distant shores with sands of blue,
Lapping waves of green on view.
Pink mountains with yellow peaks
And purple trees into my dream sneaks
Criss crossed with burgundy roads
Covered by orange polka dot toads
Whose croaks are in the key of 'C'
Not too loud respectfully
On my journey I come to a town
Somewhat drab and painted brown
This town is ancient and rather old
Yet it's windows glisten gold
The population are a little bit hazy
And full on,over the top, crazy.
But on the whole they are really nice
Offering lots of crazy advice
Like "do not feed a unicorn
Even if he looks forlorn."
Also " when you travel down the roads
Try not to step upon the toads.
For if you do there is one thing
You will change the key in which they sing"
"We like the key in which they croak
Don't fix it if it ain't broke"
" Keep one eye open for the cyclops
Hi Five him and give him props"
"He is just a little bit insecure
And if you don't, he throws manure"
This is my dream, what do you expect?
Everything to be normal and perfect?
Sticks of rock with arms and legs?
Or a crippled unicorn that begs,
All that pass for new shoes?
As the stick of rock sings the blues.
There is one thing of which I'm sure.
The usual ritual I always endure.
As soon as my dreams becomes dirty,
I wake up and notice it's only 3.30!