Daydreamer, Daydreamer,
Don't make me your slave.
Don't take my day from me.
It belongs to me, my right.
Life has its receipt ---
We pay for every day squandered.
Time has its count ---
Of myriad seconds orphaned in the mind.
Amidst this reckoning,
Dream beckons, sly and fulfilling;
Dream answers to none.
Of our uncountable, unnameable masters ---
the Dream is one.
Yet it belongs to the night,
It is the Brethren of Sleep.
It fits not in the cosmos of Day,
Yet, like the air in water,
Dream lies hidden,
in the shadows of Day.
And Daydreamer wields his weapon.
But make me not your slave,
Daydreamer,
I want my Day, to me.
Don't make me your slave.
Don't take my day from me.
It belongs to me, my right.
Life has its receipt ---
We pay for every day squandered.
Time has its count ---
Of myriad seconds orphaned in the mind.
Amidst this reckoning,
Dream beckons, sly and fulfilling;
Dream answers to none.
Of our uncountable, unnameable masters ---
the Dream is one.
Yet it belongs to the night,
It is the Brethren of Sleep.
It fits not in the cosmos of Day,
Yet, like the air in water,
Dream lies hidden,
in the shadows of Day.
And Daydreamer wields his weapon.
But make me not your slave,
Daydreamer,
I want my Day, to me.
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