The wisps of smoke they rise up high
Go curling up to touch the sky,
The poor man warms his calloused hands
Transported to enchanted lands.
Above the smoke his spirit soars
Above the din the music roars
And rocks his dreams.

The caged birds cling fast to their bars
Gaze wistfully at the dazzling stars
Feigning sleep while the endless sky
Relentlessly urges them to fly.
They sing with startling clarity
Of breezes, trees and liberty
They’re free to dream.

The money chokes him by the minute
Like ashes now, no pleasure in it
His days are chains of cigarette butts.
And yet deep down so far it hurts
Lie barefoot days in the blazing sun
Refreshing streams of thought that run
Wild in his dreams.

A crippled body maimed by fate
A crippled mind that woke up late
A nerve recked youth of unsure speech
A genius with powers out of reach.
All fired with new energy
Inspired out of lethargy
By simple dreams.

The dreams that drive you through the night
Like neons burning hot and bright,
Sustain you steady on life’s way
A step ahead, a breath away.
It wouldn’t do to turn your face,
To drag your feet, to slow your pace,
Reach for your dreams.