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deep inside my head there’s a machine
that scrubs away the memories of my dreams
every morning just before i wake
the dream eraser rubs it all away
sometimes it doesn’t get one quite in time
so i can pull it out from sleep and make it mine
i carry it around for a few weeks
but the dream eraser takes it while i’m asleep

last night i dreamt that i could fly again
like some poison bug on iridescent wings
i flew up high above the city streets
they turned into a maze of candy colored streams
my house and car and job were floating down
just bits of flotsam floating filling up this town
i thought at last the truth is life is just like this
and wrote that chalky thought on my eyelids

when i first woke i fell into my head
my wings had ripped the covers off my bed
i closed my eyes to read what i had wrote
but the dream eraser was scrubbing off my note
every night i dream a different truth
but i can forget way more than i’ll ever produce
when i’m awake i can’t recall my dreams
but when i’m sleeping i don’t know what’s real

i’ve dreamt so many things i have forgot
i live a sleeping life that has no plot
the narrative is broken there’s no past
the insights that i make at night will never last
in the morning it’s all quick to fade
the dream eraser rubs it all away
it doesn’t matter what i dream tonight
the dream eraser turns it all to white