when all awake it dawns on don quixote joustin the reaper
me thinkest that this ride keeps burrowing deeper
but dont wanna disturb the sleeper
peep the sleek designs seeing even sleepers minds wanna peek
see mimes wanna speak
free the eyes to the ether reaper runnin
see the sun is shrinkin winking eye
shuttin deep runnin from my sheets
me and infomercials' shadows battle in my burlap skin
a jagged shattered glass runway
but somedays i burn laps in a circle envious of hurtlin sheep
on this wurblin heap of blurred trash bins
and in tracks in image slurred laugh back as a friend
what act of vengeance is this
it turns my mattress to lead
this ashy lance of burnt matches
distractin this head
don quixote lonely throne only smashin ahead
when all awake
pacin back and forth actin the thinker
i think myself into this wall a thinker
dont want to disturb the sleepers
peep the weak and weary mind
for sleep theres clearly nearly either barely time
or staring peeks in here to climb
he can hear the eerie chimes
remindin him what time it is
this silence he sits in insistin a hidin position inside of him
listenin ridin him figitin twistin his linnens hissin and kissin his mind again
his mind again wanders into a flickering candle
dimantleing the wick it seems to dance for the kings of the channels
it narrows his features and creatures sing to sting to the marrow
the singing sparrows that he's reachin for just thinks he's a scarecrow
sleep isnt fair though and sleep doesnt care
he pleads it an earful but sleep doesnt hear though it leaves in dispair