Ballade of dreams

There's naught so good as having one last drink
before the short march to the nice warm bed,
enough to make you stop a while and think
of how the whole process should make you dread,
as every time on pillow you set your head
you've no idea what will happen when you sleep
Still, your eyes are heavier than rooftop lead
so off to dreamland you go, and fall in deep.

And no sooner than into warm sleep you sink
than into life pop many you've known dead,
their doings seem to have you on the brink
of throwing off the warmth of your bedspread
and freezing as in the dream you've fled
from one evil to another faster than a bleep.
Your body wakes, your eyes are heavy and red,
so off to dreamland you go, and fall in deep.

The dream at once takes you to a pool of ink
from which arises a large disembodied head,
which expands then vanishes in a swift eyeblink.
You're somewhere you know quite well you think,
but there's no originality, everything's a retread,
and as your body turns and tosses upon the bed
you wake and find yourself counting green sheep
as wakefulness once again you seek to shed,
so off to dreamland you go, and fall in deep.

Again you dream, and as you dream you swink
harder than at work that keeps you fed;
the scenery changes in ways that do not link
each with the other so that they stay in sync.
Instead the characters seem somehow to dread
that they'll be laughed at inside your own head,
as they each become like smoke hard to keep
in place, but each carrying a sort of dread,
so off to dreamland you go, and fall in deep.

Prince, as you lie awake in your warm bed,
do not attribute all these thoughts to drink;
we know that waking brings feelings of dread,
so off to dreamland you go, and fall in deep.