Rotten Dreams

I Was Slipping into Morpheus’ realm,

With Captain Birdseye at the Helm,

Sailing across a sea of porridge,

Looking for something fried to Forage.

Fish finger trees and breaded scampi,

Mohammed Ali in an adult nappy,

Lesbians sipping a dry Martini,

Boris Johnson in a pink Bikini.

Horror, death and passing fancy,

Ronald Reagan shafting Nancy,

Who really shot JFK?

The FBI, if they had their way.

No-one leaves, no-one stays,

The local pinks or the Martian greys.

Out of this world, off the planet

Made of stone, made of granite

Falling through a sea of beds,

Duvet waves, and pillow heads.

Escaping through the carpet floor

As Satan enters through the door.

Tumbling through the multiverse,

Riding in a purple hearse,

Madonna’s Body in the Back,

And Donald Trump in a gunny sack.

Plunging back towards my bed,

All these things inside my head.

Was it real or a dream,

I wonder as I ride a Bream

The only fish I’ve ever loved

The dorsal Fin, the sequined glove

The Michael Jackson of the sea

Home of the brave, land of the free.

Sinking into silken sheets

My journey over, dream complete,

All insanity forgotten,

Wake up, fuck, I’m Johnny Rotten.