The Ninth Wave

Your lidless, all seeing eyes tormenting you when you try to sleep, convinced me to point the car south and into the night. You need the wind to howl and the darkened silhouettes of the trees pointing skyward to remind you of a heaven that's too far and remote to you now. I call you the Prophet but you can't see what I see. So now sleep and dream a better place for you, for us all, and what you dream will be real. That's what I see.

Oh yeah, don't forget to include a comfy chair for me and some Wilcox tapes.