There is a bridge, a two way street
to crisscross all day
the dreamscape where love and death can be met
rage and joy take hold of your ink.
Free flow on a magic carpet and the hole that goes on forever, deep.
We meet on the bridge everyday, you going one way and I the other
and occasionally we doff our hats and chat real brief.
Its all in the subconscious, all that stuff out of reach of your conscious mind, and that's why you take the walk over the two way street, daily, and sometimes too many times to count, its a must for all those that dream.