Up Through the floor, single angle camera
Seeing through a single dream-eye stanza.
You don't have to speak to be heard
I felt the word from your throat with no blurs
But all I remember is the color of the floor and your shirt,
Might've been something about your shoes.
Nothing in the room moves, dream eye pans up through the roof
Stars don't seem so cryptic, move far too fast, celestial ballistics,
Evil thief in the moon don't seem so distant.
That woman who haunts your in your sleep,
Always gliding out the frame, always just out of reach,
Only heard every third word she said gladly.
I've got two dream guides and they're both named Abby,
Trying to get more dream savvy. Studied like a white shaman,
A pinch of valerian root and no bud in your midnight ramen, travel often.
You got a Benz, a Cadillac, I got a pillow and a pool of drool.
I don't deal with matters of fact, I walk through weeping willows bloom,
In melon-sized grips of ruler's jewels, I duel with fools,
30-foot licorice whips to the death at dawn.
But she's gone before I can turn the knob, always fleeting.
Retracing steps, trying to repeat things, Trying to catch the meaning,
Before the spoon can hit the bottom of the empty cereal bowl I'm perplexed.
The whole thing's basically gone and I'm on to the next.
Floating through the least plausible place you've ever invented.
Voices singing from the softest, bluest dimension.
Maybe you like to float, I've got a flight fixation, I usually just up and go.
Let's just suppose, eight hours of work, eight hours of free, eight hours of sleep.
Which do you need the least. Don't forget to use your dreams, please go there.
Face your fears and chase your soul there

I'm the fluid, lucid, mutant dreamer.

The globe rolls in ovals, My favorite shape is elliptic helix.
Held the fragile data, Me, I'm nothing without my prefix MC.
Unravel patterns and scramble sketches, I fetch the unfamiliar,
I bring it how you never would have meant the message.
Deceptive description, pointing at the moon is not the moon.
We had to be the back words, we never lack words, non-factual songs crack your skull,
tapped and sapped your soul, I fight a fascist with a nap, dream him dead.
More like a slimy squirming animal, vegetarian cannibal, man vs. mineral,
Plan vs. criminal, blood vs. digital, sunburst literal.
I felt it like a furnace, melted like a third-person version,
An author sitting like a coffin-fitting, often wishing he wasn't.
A dozen different dimensions, all less likely than the last.
An imaginary future is slightly less plausible than living in the past.
And still the surface isn't scratched.

I'm the fluid, lucid, mutant dreamer.

Observation, exploitation, obliteration, face the faceless,
Carve the bird, then, with an urgent word-spin,
Make present past a person.
Standing on old ice, holding a price tag, older than dirt,
Oblivious to the wall words. My pencil's got only points
and no gods to pedal for.
What you need is a steady bike and something to head it towards.

I'm the fluid, lucid, mutant dreamer.