I'm a dreamer,

Dreaming in a place that grows no dreams:

A place of rusted brick

And worn-out beams,

Broken billboards and flags—

Ripped at the seam,

And it seems, I'll never reach

My midnight dreams,

'Cause the sun brings dread,

And the moon false hope...

In between the two is where I tread,

Next to the rays and sand-dune slopes,

Where my dreams can't be seen—

No matter the scope.

So now I face a hidden path,

In a worn-out ride,

On a road with bumps and gaps

About a mile wide.

But one of these days

I hope to find,

The dreams running rampant

In my worn-out mind.