Mike Smith
06/15/09, 12:54 PM
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched in stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
I dreamed of a woman
With flowing locks of hair
And though she seemed real
I knew she'd never be there
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
I wrote about religion
And how far it had come
But I still ask myself
If not God, where'd we come from?
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
There's so many things
In all the worlds in dreams
So why must the conclusion
Be a fictional reality?
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
It was etched in stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
I dreamed of a woman
With flowing locks of hair
And though she seemed real
I knew she'd never be there
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
I wrote about religion
And how far it had come
But I still ask myself
If not God, where'd we come from?
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own
There's so many things
In all the worlds in dreams
So why must the conclusion
Be a fictional reality?
I dreamt of a rhythm
It was etched into stone
And tapping into my senses
I made the rhythm my own