a tiny dream
of a place
it isn't real
but just incase
I'll find a way
to bring it here
it is mine
where I appear
to hold a hand
without an arm
and wake up
with no alarm
rather in a place
that is my dream
where bodies rest
while shadows lean
against a post
thats made of red
a gym for sleep
a church of dead
for that is what
they already are
it's only that
they haven't a car
to travel faster
to get away
from what they chase
has turned astray
but in my dream
this land is near
all i need
is to disapear
and talk to the boy
who is of mine
that has golden hair
and his rope of twine
pulled so tightly
it has no sound
but where you stand
really has no ground
so this is now
what this is here
only you are mine
to look so clear
and I can see
that you are there
yes, that little boy
with golden hair
who came to me
and showed the place
in my dream
under the case
of stairs that drew
me closer in
to warmer fealing
of inner sin
because that is
my only joy
but I only give thanks
to that little boy
who showed me the place
inside my dream
thats hidden by shadows
hit by no sunbeam
but light inside
can still prevail
that is only if
I do not fail
my task to find
what is to redeem
what the little boy
showed in my dream

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