i'm 20 feet tall or i'm nothin at all
in my waking slumber with no one left i can call
did it up seen it all, with a fist through the wall
when i sleep there is bliss, when i wake, it's just this
neverending condesending day by day diatribe
lucid dreaming newsletter best believe i subscribe
what i mean is i tried, kept my eyes open wide
but at the end of the day it's all lies (no surprise)
i surmise that your reality is what you make
of your surroundings but for me maybe it is too late
for any grounding of what's become truth or is fake
and to realize this is my fate (that's just great)
i await an awakening or epiphany
failing that, perhaps the start of world war 3
and to sleep is to keep a sliver of sanity
conciousness only adds to my mental debris
at the end of the day it's my only addiction
a place i can stay and create my own fiction
i'm sick son, and REM is the cure
f** the outside world when i'm safe and secure
in the fact, that this world is intact
and whatever it lacks i can mold it exactly
even subtract me to see it abstractly
do i track these keys, when i pack Z's
the cynisism of my rhythm it just unlocks
when i awaken i'm as vicious as evil spock
tick tock, go back to where time has stopped
the oclock is something you can co-opt
the great uniter, it transcends cla**
tryptophan is up in my forecast
the days and weeks pa**, sleep makes it seem fast
slumber is the side of the fence with all the green gra**