Series of Dreams
I was thinking of a series of dreamsWhere nothing comes up to the topEverything stays down where it's woundedAnd comes to a permanent stopWasn't thinking of anything specificLike in a dream, when someone wakes up and screamsNothing too very scientificJust thinking of a series of dreamsThinking of a series of dreamsWhere the time and the tempo flyAnd there's no exit in any direction'Cept the one that you can't see with your eyesWasn't making any great connectionWasn't falling for any intricate schemeNothing that would pass inspectionJust thinking of a series of dreamsDreams where the umbrella is foldedInto the path you are hurledAnd the cards are no good that you're holdingUnless they're from another worldIn one, the surface was frozenIn another, I witnessed a crimeIn one, I was running, and in anotherAll I seemed to be doing was climbWasn't looking for any special assistanceNot going to any great extremesI'd already gone the distanceJust thinking of a series of dreamsDreams where the umbrella is foldedInto the path you are hurledAnd the cards are no good that you're holdingUnless they're from another worldI'd already gone the distanceJust thinking of a series of dreams