My Dream

When I build my home,

That I shall have some day;

It'll be like I want it

Oh - and I mean that in every way.



I have yet to see any

that would cope with the style -

Of the house that I dream of;

That I'll build after a while.



The roof of it will have peak lines,

and contours that dip;

and form shadowy eaves,

where the little raindrops can drip.



... That sweet pitter patter,

of raindrops at play -

is such a beautiful sound

on a quiet gloomy day.



You know, when the wind is high,

And the storm gods race,

and I'll be snugged up

by my fire-place.



Maybe feeding my little dog,

or playing with my little cat.

But unconsciously yearning,

and wonderin' where you're at.



But when the meadow is shadowed

by that old sinking sun;

And the roses are bowing

for the dew drops to come;



At my old upright piano,

with pure ivory keys,

I'll just plunk out some vibrations

of whatever I please.



Sometimes it'll be classics,

sometimes lullabies;

But mostly rock n' roll

- that I'll surely improvise.



And with my favourite guitar,

I'll be just strummin' away

and bidding goodbye,

to another beautiful day.



A portrait of my angel,

That I love most of all -

I'll have painted from a snapshot

onto my bedroom wall.



Where the suns warm rays,

and the moon's cold beam

Will cast her reflection,

as I lay there and dream.



You know, I can't deny

- but it makes me so sad,

When I think that I've lost

All that I could have had.



It was best for her -

And I guess I, I know;

That she measured my love -

and then asked me to go.



Then Finally my house,

I will have it complete.

And I'll take up a smoke,

Sitting by the window sill.



And I'll read my many books

that I'll have in my bachelors nest;

While the sun goes drooping

- down in the west.



And I'll feel that gold,

warm light on my face;

And then I'll start trippin'

to some far off place.



That through all of my travels,

I must have missed somewhere -

A place that I might find

my angel someday.



And I'll leave all that I have

to the gods, up above;

and go spend my life searching

for the angel, that I love.



For all of my dreams,

would be but a souvenir;

compared to the one

that I love so dear.