Dreams are the hammer and I am the nail.
I'm making a cross, not a mast and a sail.
It's a sea not a river, this current I fight.
I can never stop swimming, not even at night
My dreams cannot own me, nor can I own them.
It's the curse of the thinker, this dreaming in men
The mad box is glowing, it's yelling at me, showing worlds full of promise,
But no world for me
It's a world full of users and the drug is release; indulging its victims, but giving no peace We are lambs to the slaughter but nobody cares, to warn all the others, for nobody dares

I'm a slave to my ego, I'm the fool that it feeds.
I mix up my dreams with the few things I need
There's no steel in in the dagger, no blood in the bones.
There's no reason for trying, there's nobody home.
So I hide in my dreams like a turtle in shell.
I've seen Heaven while sleeping, but it could have been Hell

But by looking inside us for the source of the Well,
We face our own lies as they take us to hell
We search for Nirvana, our screams fill the sails.
We are given the hammer, we forge our own nails.
My blood for the city; all mercy has failed.
The wind tours the cities...
No wonder it wails

(C) Ron Lee 1994

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