The Dream Syndicate — The Slowest Rendition

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PART ONE
I can hear those ringing bells again
Carefully I check to see if I’m awake
A formless mass that would not hold its form
A crucial deviation from the norm

To think I once would have welcomed
In delight, this chaos that flickers in the night
And I’m a passive audience at best
Sentient and awake, for that I’m blessed

Words and thoughts that once were my stock in trade
Are strewn about like broken toys, mislaid
Melodies and remedies and kindly advice
I put them where I’ll find them when the time is right

A flash of light illuminates and gives me chills
Maybe I’m just a stand in for some greater ills
Maybe someone’s pulling at my strings
I reach above my head and don’t feel a thing

I claw and thrash and rip and tear the scenery
That only I and nobody else can see
Mocked by something just beyond my reach
On a silent, barren, darkening empty beach

They say that newborns experience their scenes
Like psilocybin lysergic psychedelic dreams
So, just like them I’m ready to be born again
Who can say for sure, who can say just when

I close my eyes, I know that I’ll soon sleep
The waking hours and questions slowly seep
Into one another, in my mind they smother
The tenuous reality, sneaking up on me

I can hear those bells again

PART TWO
A descending ending
An ascending of the saint
I will wrangle and wrestle
Until suddenly it all feels the same

Count the irregular heartbeat
But the same dreams keep hanging on
Call on the zombie damage
But the same dream comes undone

I am the derelict conductor
Of the broken symphony
I’m the amateur director
On a badly lit mystery

Keep moving the pieces
Keep shuffling the deck
Keep singing the chorus
Of the slowest rendition