Don't ever tell me that dreams aren't real.
Despite all logic it's how they make me feel
that convinces me that when we shut our eyes
the worlds we visit are no random lies.
It's not the scientific truth
of what our brain does while we snooze
that matters at the end of night...
it's what we're left with in morning light.
Again I lay here alone in bed,
wrestling with realities inside my head,
and knowing no matter what I try to believe
it's while I'm awake I'm most deceived.