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I can not stand on the back of a dream
Hoping it will carry me
Far and wide across the dark gloomy sky
Still believing that it will arrive
In time before my hair turns gray
Along with the withering of my hands
Surely death will follow revealing the pages
I’ve hid all of my life uncovering the bones
That lay piled high on my closet floor
Of dreams that died waiting to be born
Procrastinating into a non compos mentis
Mind state of decomposing visions
Faced with nothing but today
I can not wait for tomorrow
It’s always too late
