The land of sheep.

The land of sheep

There’s an electric tag that says I’m a novice dreamer
But then again maybe not
I don’t think I’m a novice dreamer
Then again déjà vu say what?
Perhaps I am just a novice dreamer
Wet behind the zzz's
Sleeping in a hammock at the bottom of a mountain
Instead of flying around lucidly on the top
So I wonder how high is this mountain
And will it ever stop
Then if somehow I reach the peak
Whats next
A mighty drop?

Then I’m back to sleeping in my hammock
Way down below the clouds

Beneath my blanket made of stone under comforting
Layers of earth and rock
I take to creating mountains out of wool
Whilst dreamily counting sheep
I yawn
Is there more than just one mountain
There’s more than just one sleep
And if you run and jump across three z's or more
Do you get to the land of sheep

The sheep that live on a far away mountain
Whose only dream is of being counted
Whilst being cared for by
shepherdesses made from wool
And right at the foot
Beneath the lucid spirits
Soaring high above the white
Sits the ragged boy stitching hammocks
To catch any sheep that fall.