My dreams have dreams

They have wings

They dream of waking up in a place of no killings

A beautiful place of blissful instrumental music

Not the big bang of exploding guns

Tons and tons of addicted son’s

Under the scorching sun

Excuse the pun

I don’t do this for fun

You see

I hate seeing a gun

Too many mothers have buried their sons

Over a gun and a couple of coins

Yes

A gun and a couple of coins.

My dreams have dreams

I dream of broken dreams dreamt by broken people

My dreams are music

Playing an orchestra to ease the blues of depression

To ease the blues of loneliness sucking the life out of people.