The Dreamlings
The purple ones know you.
They hide in your bed.
They come when you're sleeping and
jump in your head.
They eat your subconscious.
They smell of the truth.
Beyond their belifs lie the
burden of proof.
The big ones are funny.
The little ones kind,
and if you can catch one you
open your mind.
The old ones are hidden.
They never appear.
They drive you insane with the
voices you hear.
The chew on disaster
and prey on the mad.
Grotesque in their features they're
totally bad...
or perhaps good...
just misunderstood...
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