When you close your eyes to sleep,
What happens after you count your sheep?
Swirling clouds of coloured smoke,
And into your mind, themselves they poke.

Dreams can be sad or mad,
They also can be bitter and bad,
They hop about like a bunny,
And maybe you seem really crazy.

Some dreams make people bold,
Others make them thin and old,
Dreams are only specks of dust,
So looking at them is not a must.

If this thing called dreams,
Give you frightful screams,
Just close your eyes,
To that world of lies.