Dreaming of Sheep

Dreaming of Sheep

Ship to shore can you hear me?

Is there anybody out there quite near me?

I’ve come round to thinking,

that my craft is thinking;

and even though the water’s only three foot deep,

I know I’ll wake up when I go to sleep.

I know I will wake up when I go to sleep

It’s no use my even counting hundreds of sheep,

they just stand on the hillside there, in a flock

and then they all run about, they run amock.

Thoughts and images confuse my mind,

I’m looking for an answer,

a question I find;

I seem to be the blind man not leading the blind,

how on Earth do I get to unwind.

I’m like a coiled spring,

a wound up thing

that wound up here

on the first day of Spring,

or that sort of thing.

I’m the man in the corner,

a little Jack Horner

for the twenty-first century,

and I don’t want to be me.

I know I will wake up when I go to sleep

It’s no use my even counting hundreds of sheep,

they just stand on the hillside there, in a flock

and then they all run about, they run amock.

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