Sleep

I'm nervous as I sit here alone

Thinking about the idea of freedom

I'm controlling all the wrong things

And to think of any gain from it

I must be dreaming

I'll never be Brett Whiteley

But someday I might like seeing from my own eyes

I could be the elected

Not rejected from the heavens in the sky

I'm not sure if I should be doing this

If this is even anything at all

The autumn, it has blown in quick

And I'm rushing to turn a new leaf

Before they fall

I'll never be Chris Bell

But perhaps I could hang in the cosmos at night

I could be the elected

Not rejected from the heavens in the sky

I'm a slave to hate my enemies

And in doing so

I guess that I am farther from God

I'm not even in their memories

But I've been thinking about forgiveness for too long

I'll never be Meryl Streep

But someday I might believe in my own lies

I could be the elected

Not rejected from the heavens in the sky

Oh, to sleep so romantically