Dreams carry me to places where defeated faces
makes comebacks like Jordans slam dunks
lookin for ways to make the past last in past tense
surreal deals tells tales my counsious fails to catch the details
actions weighed on scales leaving my thoughts for sale
not for pennies or dimes, I'll rather trade them for divine guide lines
nothing makes sense when dreams get intense
trying to embrace the presence, only get some other sequence
different angle creating yet another sequel
quick to follow it, there is no way for me to contradict
the fact, like the Nostradramus prophesies
what is written shall be just haft to wait and see
wake up call taking me back to reality its time for some herbal tea