Struck my soul at a quarter of twelve.
The sun won’t be up for hours.
We can escape this wasteland of worry and
wander through a carnival of dreams
where no nightmares are allowed
to trespass into our thoughts.
Not with the cotton candy
smells whirling through the air.
Pink and blue,
rose and violet
drifting through the warm atmosphere.
It’s time to paint the night sky
from coal black to a delicious rainbow.
Struck my soul at a quarter past twelve.
I think it might be time to say good night.
Time to wake up from the faded haze hallucination,
and return to a concrete world of monotony
where fantasy only runs
through the colorless clouds.
Please,
Walk me to the edge of the grass,
while holding my hand steady.
I’ll gently drift over the edge and
send a kiss from the distance.
But we won’t be sad, or hurt, or curious
Because I’ll be seeing you.