Spiral Dream Twist
Chasing down the spiral dream twist
Where the avenues paved with gold
Revert to crazy-paved slabs of lead
When a Midas touch track runs cold.
The lure remains so defiant in mist
That obscures the Holy Grail;
Almost in reach then spirited off
To some place on a serpentine trail.
The sapphires glowing a fire in the grist
Of the endless procession of toil;
The feverish brow scratched bloody and raw
In the burn of the midnight oil.
What worlds without dreamers could ever exist
What wine would be there to sup?
Without dreamers and dreams a world has no soul,
So take care not to wake them up.
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