Insomnia Blues

Well, I woke up this morning,
(It was the middle of the night),
I'd dreamt of some dire warning,
(I could do without that shite).

Brain lit up, 'round the hippocampus,
Like a hungry pack of dogs,
Just bitchin', snappin', 'n' creatin' a rumpus,
Slaverin' on my mental cogs.

So it's hello ceiling, old friend,
Your empty canvas beckons.
And the creeping shadows, they all portend,
The deeds of fiends and felons.

Maybe it was the Dalai Lama?
Crashed in while astral planing,
He is the one sings Hari Rama?
Material things disdaining?

But hey, he's divinely light,
(Does he have a darker side?)
Could he fill me full of fear and fright?
PR image override?

Nah. It must be something else,
Historical? Hmmmm... maybe.
Something deep within my self?
From when I was a baby?

Feral loathing in Los Angeles,
They're trouble, them thar angels;
You can't be sure if it will please,
Karl Marx or Friedrich Engels.

Ah, my thoughts are muddied water,
I'll be sleeping very soon,
Then a pulse in my aorta,
Reminds me of a tune.

Well, I woke up this morning,
(It was the middle of the night),
I'd dreamt of some dire warning,
(I could do without that shite).

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