Credit Ayers/Ratledge
Original Band The Soft Machine
it begins with a blossom and it ends with a curse
making life easy, it will making it worse
“my mask is my master” the troubador weeps
but the voices are weak as he speaks from his sleep
said:
why are we sleeping?
people I’m watching and people who stare
I’m waiting for something but it’s already there
“tomorrow I’ll find it” the troubador screams
and I remember he’s hungry and he’s drowned in his dreams
said:
why are we sleeping?
my head is a nightclub with glasses under wine
and the customers dancing and I just making time
“my baby is cursing” the customer’s screamed
now everyone’s shouting: ”get out of my dreams”
said:
why are we sleeping?
