Normally they are warped splendour
Twisted wreckage of the day
Piled on articles from papers
Digested and forgotten long ago
Forms disolve to truths and passions
Love pokes out from every door
Reality folds ten dimensions
Into our cosy carpet on a floor

Yet last night they wimpered
Rooms merely rooms
All just places for a bed
As prosaic pointless passions capered
From one poor-scripted line
To its weaker less effective brother
No more than a low bawdry show
Suitable for coins and slots
With most lonely private booths
Boring even in the dreaming
Enough to wake me twice

Wasted nights shouldn't haunt me
There's a few more in the store
But dreams are where the joy rises
Where deepest hopes are spun
Wasted on some silly girl
Who'll never sigh my name
They die hopeless deaths
Never to return again

If they give me nought
To give the world
That's not been seen before
I could do without the waking
Get gentle good night's sleep
Wake with rising morning
Conquer some red rising tide
Build a better mousetrap
With a gentle glow inside

Instead I wake distracted
By dreams can never be
Knowing I'm a patent fool
Only dreaming that I'm free
Peace from the faded demons
Seems slow to come to me