THE WHITE STONE

I keep a white stone in my pocket
Worn smooth by the roll of the sea
Water surrounds me
At night when I sleep
I carried it back from a dream

But now I can't tell if I'm dreaming
The white stone is always with me
The sun comes up
And I go blind
When the night's black as pitch
I can see

I walk in my sleep through strange cities
Through worlds that are made of concrete
I feel like I'm falling
Water surrounds me
I wake on the bed of the sea

I hold the white stone, as I stumble
My grip, it has loosened, you see
My wandering soul
Is tired, I know
Its roots have no soil to keep

I find myself lost in the middle
The light is too blinding to see
How will I know
When again, I awake
When everything plays like a dream

I feel it again, I am falling
I open my eyes, but can't see
I still cannot fly
In both places, I've tried
I drop the white stone in the sea.