In shadows cast by towers tall,
Where capitalism's echoes fall,
A weary soul, with burdened heart,
Seeks refuge in the dream world's art.
The air is thick with the grind of gold,
A tale of dreams left untold,
In this suffocating grasp so cold,
The soul desires a tale of old.
"Dream a little dream for me!"
The whisper echoes, soft decree,
A call to arms, a plea for flight,
To realms where dreams take endless flight.
In the Dream World, enchantments play,
An open haven, far away,
Welcoming the soul, tender embrace,
With promises of an endless chase.
Yet confidence, a fragile thread,
In the dreamer's heart, it's often bred,
Fighting doubts that seek to smother,
A journey to discover another.
Oblivion threatens, a looming tide,
Yet the soul mustn't run and hide,
To demystify, to seek the key,
Unlock the secrets, set them free.
In the Dream World's tapestry,
A realm that knows no boundary,
The soul shall dance, its spirit soar,
Embracing peace forevermore.
Dream a little dream, oh weary one,
Let the dream world be your sun,
Rise above the capitalist sea,
Find solace in your sovereignty.
Awaken the internal, eternal fire,
A spirit that won't tire,
To demystify the enchanting night,
And turn the dream world's key to light.
- The Dekoder
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