Sun shining
through my bedroom cave of daily escape.
She's smiling
and now my wings are broken, left to fade
in these nightmarish wet dreams--a face
that haunts my pretty daze.
I can't sleep; my lungs are failing
waiting for you to say,

"I'm dreaming of beautiful things.
I'm not scared of a diamond ring.
I can live with my feelings of love
and stuff the pop songs sing of,"

'cause I keep dreaming of you and me,
I keep sweating, and I can't sleep.
Tell me you love me and please don't leave
your light on where the fiends can see you.
Let me sleep and never see you now.

Facebook stalk
to pretend we shared a memory.
You may want
another hit of fiction for your brain.
My back hurts: I'm coughing
from all the re-hashed analogies.
I wonder what it means
that we all have got a craving for someone to say,

"I'm dreaming of beautiful things.
I'm not scared of a diamond ring.
I can live with my feelings of love
and stuff the pop songs sing of."

I'm so loving I'm going cliché.
Pop metaphor is the only way.
Someone recycle me, throw me away.
I wonder: can you medicate me?

Who would want to medicate
someone with love,
when love's a so-called "drug,"
a line abused in songs?
I think it means that we're all lonely,
lonely addicts.

I keep dreaming of beautiful things.
I am scared of a diamond ring.
I can't live with my feelings of love
and stuff the pop songs sing of.

I keep dreaming of you and me.
I keep sweating and I can't sleep.
Tell me you love me and please don't leave
your light on where the fiends can see you.
Let me sleep and never see you
'cause I'm so loving I'm going cliché.
Pop metaphor is the only way.
Someone recycle me, throw me away.

I wonder: can you medicate me?
Who would want to medicate me?
Who would want to medicate me?
You wouldn't want to medicate me.

I don't want to dream anymore.
No, I don't want to dream about you.