Words and dreams, words and dreams,
where every thing is as it seems,
and every difference I can make,
depends upon what I forsake
Words stay out of my reach,
like starfish stranded, on the beach,
waiting for the sea to take them home

The sea of sleep, is blue and deep,
is there to have, but not to keep,
and only me, upon the raft,
drifting forward, drifting aft
While all the monsters of the deep,
go making threats, they cannot keep,
when morning comes to make them all go home

Morning time is morning time,
for all of us, must rise and shine,
and shine we will, in our own way,
to fly like the Anola Gay
While that which goes on down below,
may burn in ways, we never know,
to rise up, like a prayer,
like words and dreams

Words and dreams, words and dreams,
be careful of them cause you see,
that though they wear no uniform,
their duty is to stay informed
Of that which burns, and that which prays,
and that which goes on holidays,
waiting for the sea, to take them home

- Fred Smith, Bagarup Empires.
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