Desert island of hidden coral reefs and golden beaches of sculptured sands
Endures in certain wistful reveries, for it's there where no man ever stands
Seductive secret sirens will call with an enchanting dirge of mournful songs
Enticing all those lucid dreamers, who'll dream apart, from passive throngs
Rats on rafts, from sinking ships, will sail away to another shimmering shore
They maybe cast adrift and caught though, by the unstoppable force of yaw
In the salty wind-whipped surf, those oneiric wights are sure to run aground
Setting down on the shifting sham, when they're too deep asleep and sound
Lulled by a utopian pareidolia, but there, the syrtic sands are much too quick
As the dreamers sink and slide, before they rise, to escape the illusion's trick
Nothing alive, lives on the desert island, not even phantom bees will bumble
Dreamers dream though, of an oasis, where eroded castles fall and crumble
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