DREAMY SKY

[Intro] I take not one, but two— Cassidy pens all I see. His quill carves stars into drifting steam, Spilling my thoughts like melted tea. He’s writing now, as the train rolls in— Steam like ghosts against my skin. The platform hums with names I’ve lost, And my mind derails without a cost. [Verse 1] Steam draws elegies on mirrored breath, Faces drip like incense in death. I stir the firmament with a tarnished spoon, Summon the howl of a long-dead moon. Cassidy watches from the porcelain sill, His pen still dancing, deathly still. He traps each thought before it flies— And folds them under dreaming skies. [Chorus] We’re simmering in the man soup, friend, Where silence and sinew twist and bend. Celestial onions begin to weep, In pots where buried spirits sleep. [Verse 2] The butcher wears a crown of flies, The carrot hums old lullabies. A prophet peeled like sacred root Pours gospel steam through Cassidy’s flute. Galaxies swirl in marrow streams, Dissolving slow into lucid dreams. Salted with cries never born to try— Scribed in steam beneath a dreamy sky. [Bridge] Don’t stir the void... it bites back. Let it curdle... let it crack. A hand ascends through boiling foam— Not waving... just... stirring home. [Chorus] We’re melting in the man soup, love, Seasoned with ash from stars above. Taste buds bloom in violet hue, While Cassidy writes what I never knew. [Outro] Spooned from wombs and poured through fate, Garnished with the hands of late. Drink it down, O trembling eye— A mouthful of the dreamy sky. The soup has made me comfortably numb... No edges left, no place to run. My name dissolves in seasoned foam— And Cassidy writes: "he won’t come home." Note: Conceptual Psychedelic Rock / Progressive Ballad In Honor Of My Favorite Band - Pink Floyd