Old Man Sings The Blues

The old man sings the blues Early morning the day had died a wall of grey nothingness death without grief. The night had been dreamless had there been any nightor had been erased, life and death have merged this the end of what I will see. Is my bed a coffin I have been let out of? So I could see what the world was like when it was colourless, an insipid oblivion, this apart we see in hues is an illusionto spare us the reality the world does not exists we are dreams within the imagined and life is an invention.