In the theatre of sleep
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Where no reason remains
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Dreamers and drifters
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Make their entrance onto the stage
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Non-stop scenery changes
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With promptings in the dark
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Trapped in unremitting violence
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As trees stripped of their bark
|
When they're buried in your dream
|
The past is a foreign country
|
They do things differently there
|
You're back in the old schoolhouse
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With rows and rows of chairs
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Well it might be war or Christmas
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With the tanks and guns and flares
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Or a witch that wields her broomstick
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The stars of your nightmare
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When they're buried in your dream
|
I was trapped on the edge of a waterfall
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In an old riverboat
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A proud queen washed up at last
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She's giving up the ghost
|
Slimy green water rising
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I knew that I would die
|
I had no time to abandon ship,
|
The morning had arrived
|
|
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|
Theatre Of Sleep
|
| Steve Hackett |
