Dream of the silver greys.

I was walking along a street. It looked like the U.S.A.

I looked at each person walking by.

I realised I was dreaming and I felt excellent.

A long white cord stretched for miles from my chest to the sky.

I longed to follow the cord even though it was so long.

I was instantly above myself in my bed.

I forced myself to open my eyes. I didn't want to wake up.

I tried again to open my very sore and tired eyes.

I opened my eyes and saw my hands across my chest holding a bible.

I woke up. I was seventeen.

I don't have the exact details.

I don't think compassion needs an order.

Savour our Saviour across the border.

Shine on melancholic disorder.

Bring your passion and record her.

Resent and resent and resent some more.

Keep your keys and keep your door.

I can't walk and talk no more.

So I take my orders and watch the floor.

Trapped and contained with no liberation.

I've had a gutful of appreciation.

No escape and no end of frustration.

Take me away Dad to the sorry nation.