Ralph McTell — Still in Dreams

This morning I am still in dreams Of you and I both young as spring My step is cautious down to breakfast The floor of dreams is eggshell thin There is a green mist in the trees The toast is burnt to cindered crumbs The sound of bees hum in my head And I am all fingers and thumbs I've been sleeping now for hours I can't seem to wake me up Getting rained on in the shower Fumbling with my coffee cup Deep down I know I'm in a mist And that really I'm not even trying For I have always been like this Whenever I've been flying I drag a comb through knots of dreams For when I shave I must address This image mirrored back at me That's weathered in time's wilderness Whilst yours is fixed in summer light Not creased or lined and smudged with age A new print from time's negative A red dot on a linen page There is a green mist in the trees Along the river known to me There is a blue mist in the grass And I am lost and all at sea