People like to dream on.
Dreams: when one's mind becomes a con.
Nightmares, at least, are far better,
They come back to haunt one much later.
Sanity? What is supposed to be that?
If not the oddities of an insane brat.
Lunatics live in a land separated by walls.
That could be the only place, other worlds could be false.
The grass is green when one smokes and flies.
The sky feels ecstasy as it dies.
Dreams are dead, nightmares rule the night.
In this wrong world, that is the only thing right.