There was a time that men forgot
what was, but was not, so even now
I sought to ask about what was,
so perilously in my dreams.
 
For I dreamed so much untrue
about those who fought for sin,
who grew not flowers, only dread,
who dreamed of rivers running red.
 
Who called it folly just to read
the books that once were true,
and now they never were, they say
within the wisdom of our day.
 
This way they took children by the hand
way out upon the sands of shame
there to the sink holes everywhere
which capture those without a care.
 
No - walk on ahead, careful there!
as streams run faster and
the strongest current takes ahold
of any child who's never told.
 
Because sand seems all the same
on top of traps of suction that
the child's pulled down away
from folly's guiding hand.
 
There was a time that men forgot
when what was, today is not, and so
I'm eager to ask about what was,
when I awake and wish to dream..