My mind and imagination is more than four boring blank walls More than a blank ceiling and uneven floor

Looking at the big TV screen How do the small people fit in? I touch the warm glass Pixels of moving colours is all we see

I feel just a bit in between The yellow sunshine The deep red sunset I’m caught in between day and night I’m a little bit confused

Sitting in this sweaty heat The sun gradually growing nearer to me Breaking records We do not need to break Airplanes unable to take off

The man in the mirror has crossed over in time Travelled through dark and bleak times Into the bright shining sunlight

My beautiful wings weigh heavy on me I fly above this wonderful but troubled world My blue wings take on the worries of all the world

As I watch the big picture of the white rabbit I cannot believe what I see The white rabbit is trying to escape his golden antique picture

Walking through the grey dirty mist A slender figure walking through this charcoal forest

Marilyn Mouse Her beauty lights up the dark night sky Diamond sparkling stars She has trillions of mouse admirers

The deserted unkept piano stairs As I take one tentative step I know these piano stairs are definitely unkept

It’s the summer of 1929 We live in our American department store We are wax mannequins We are profusely sweating

I really love my tasty coffee My cup of aromatic coffee has just come alive A marshmallow sweet cute kitten emerging from my fluffy latte

I saw a mirror image of myself Identical in every way Everything the opposite way I hate looking at myself Another mirror appeared

I asked the cello can I play your beautiful strings? Let’s tango in this bleak London street Listening to the rain that beats

Watching TV Fiction that touches reality Normal people becoming reality stars Saying mashed up, smashed up lines Never coherent

Neo funk steampunk space ball You came from outer space You made your home at our place Earth, you invaded You took over our creative minds

I fell asleep in my slumberland bed I wake up in a 1950’s Breakfast show In my white nightshirt Arms stretched out

I wanted to dust the planets I wanted to iron the creases out of Saturn’s rings Catching the spinning rings with my hot steaming iron

I don’t know where I landed in this fantasy land White spotted red topped mushrooms as tall as palm trees I feel like a speck of dust

I am a house I am a home It is me who stands outside in the beating scorching sun Who withers the storms and the pelting rain