You would hate to be that dream… you know
the martyred slave of time.
You tell yourself,
“I didn’t bring myself to this situation,
I was brought here.”
With that horrible burden of time tick tocking away,
the earth beckoning you with crooked fingers…
broken backs, broken dreams…
what next…. broken hearts!?
“So your accusing eyes and mounting lies,
they wont shoot me down for much longer.
You act as if I am property to be owned… claimed
what you forget is that
I am a fire, I burn , I yearn, I breathe and I live…
I am alive.”
You dream of waking on the steps of a palace,
whilst in the mournful solitude of your own room
You keep chasing the wind, and if you can’t catch the clouds
you’re just a dreamer.
“So ask yourself why, why do I keep chasing
If you can’t catch the clouds
then you’re just a dreamer
A screamer of little faith
and big words, that you can’t seem to
Grasp and understand.”
And so it continues until broken
you awake again…
Inspired by Charles Baudelaire, Be Drunk