A Bed of Stars

Living in a hyperspace dream,
Spaced out until time is seen
Outside the growing glues of an endless tunnel
That reach up and suck me in like a funnel.

And then the dream begins to turn
And I, the rider, begin to learn
That time is squeezing rather tight
And is turning a life into a fright.

And so the stars burn sharp in red,
And a bundle of thorns lies on the bed,
And all the cold sweat begins to gleam
Through hyperspace unseen.

Circles of gold turn to rust;
A thousand people turn to dust.
And then the novas begin to crack
And I begin to travel back.

The novas turn into specks in the sky.
In my bed I still lie
Awakened from a hell within a dream;
Away from hyperspace unseen.