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One, two, three four,
Numbering them off as they brush by.
And as I count them,
I'm winding around in this sick, sad world,
As my reality yanks out from under me.
I'm finally granted a listless sleep of numbness and perfection.
But I realize how deadly this nightmare can be.
We wander around,
Trying to guess what we have to lose,
And what we have to find.
I could drown in my daze as you run away,
Of the colors of blue and purple and black.
And scream and shout 'til the lights give out.
But maybe I should be running, too,
Following the entrancing movement of the sheep.
Hop, hop, hopping the fence,
Our stepping stones of greed and jealousy;
The presence and persona of wants and fears.
But who's to say that maybe we aren't taking our chances.
Maybe our time here is wasted. Would you know?
Would I know?
An idea will spark.
Let's run off together together,
To catch our grand dream of dreams.
I'd like to think that we can find them.
But the way that your eyes speak to me
Tell me that you believe otherwise,
And your skills of rhetoric and rationality are drawing to an end.
Now I know the difference of reality and the sheep.
The reality stays in your mouth,
Forever haunting and lingering until we die.
And the sheep are the pillow that we sleep on at night...
Our momentary structure and soundness of mind and body.


[[ I wrote it inlike. Ten minutes. Be nice. razz ]]