Happy again for the precious time I steal
For a minute there I thought my dream was real

Sometimes [bad word] to me as a flock of birds
Sometimes [bad word] dressed as Allen Ginsberg

Until the morning light,
The same dream every night

In my dreams you are alive and breathing
Standing at my door like St Steven
I just can't break this it seems
In my dreams, In my dreams

Sometimes a bolt of [bad word] through the sadness,
That there is a reason for the madness
And somehow it stirs a joy within me
And I understand that the root of pain is beauty

Grief has favoured me with 1, 000 sittings
series of portraits that go on and on
On and on and on

In my dreams you are alive and breathing
Standing at my door, not speaking
I just can't face this is seems
In my dreams, in my dreams