In the arm of Morpheus
I pick and choose:
today will I be afraid
to say boo to a goose?
Will my dream be
at sixes and sevens?
Or the fortune will raise me
in the seventh heaven?
Will the horn of plenty
make me high and mighty?
Or a doubting Thomas
I’ll meet, stocks and stones?
Will I lie you telling
I feel right as rain
with might and main?
When the die is cast,
task is hard and fast,
will I cry with crocodile tears?
Our love corner-stone
will I put on my own
heart and soul?
In the arm of Morpheus
I feel free and easy:
with my hopes, with my goals
I am busy.
19 февраля 2014 г.