The fabric of my dreams
Has been tattered
By the bony fingers of fate
It is threadbare
Through constant abrasion
Against harsh reality
The vibrant colours have faded
As it is weather beaten
It can't cocoon me in warmth
Against frigid desolation
Nor give embalming shade
Against scorching glare
It can't waft me into flights of fancy
Like a magic cloak
It is about to come apart
Has been tattered
By the bony fingers of fate
It is threadbare
Through constant abrasion
Against harsh reality
The vibrant colours have faded
As it is weather beaten
It can't cocoon me in warmth
Against frigid desolation
Nor give embalming shade
Against scorching glare
It can't waft me into flights of fancy
Like a magic cloak
It is about to come apart
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