These are dangerous days for dreamers
And rather cautious ones even for the schemers
Dangerous for passion
For beautiful things
Dangerous for love
For art, for dreams
Fatal days for the losers
Who go down in fatal ways in bone-hard poverty
It didnât work?
It didnât turn a dime?
There must be something wrong with it
These are grand ole days for vices who offer security
For God, for dogma, for party
Peddle that rainbow, that elixir, that shit somewhere else Sir
Here itâs not very well regarded
In the old days the schemers were awash in laughter
In drink, in self-praise
Today?
They seek forgiveness and understanding from their victims
Their facades, their curtains all stripped away
These are dangerous days for dreamers
Iâm awake
Iâm asleep
Iâm awake
Iâm asleep
But I donât dream
I donât dare
Itâs not safe
ca