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so, dream your sweet dream
while a river grows from a stream
and a nightmare rears
and struts the sky
Hi ho silver
my oh my
and where is high
when low you fly
without the will to try
and did you die
when she told you
well, not tonight...no baby, not tonight
is it what she said to you
when you tripped the light fantastic
is it what she told you boy
when she melted all your plastic skies
and deep inside where the demons lie
and you just can't help believe
that a dream is just
a nightmare you think sweet
and still you cry
for a dream where you're the dragon.
cry for a dream
where there's not a naggin
doubt of what you're about
it's a world without that girl
and within your world
no flags unfurled
for you're alone
and the wind is not impressed
a bow to the power of a love unknown
a tip of the festive hat,
a feat of nature shown
to an audience of bones
a cyclone seeking wind
when nothing is within that roams
did you not hear that she implored you
that she could not afford you
an entrance in a dream that you foretold
for she is not the dancer in your centerfold
she is the silver breeze
that left you
blind and old.
what if a moment didn't mean
what you schemed and dreamed
in a vacant stare
that no one sought
to live?
what did you give?
a cyclone is a product of the wind ... it's whim
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