There is a little staircase at the head of my bed, it runs from here to Mars.
I run up it when I am dreaming to go sit at the bar, which is on Mars.
I sit on the stool and dream of school and all the things I have to learn,
while the atmosphere steams and the surface of the planet burns.
I am in a bubble made of glass,
I watch the planets spin and the constellations pass.
Tiny green men with hammers work on spaceships
and tell me things I need to know.
Then I fall slowly, like a fog or a dreary day
back into myself as I silently lay.
I proceed to wake up,
and generally make some black coffee.
I start running down the staircase at great speed
to meet the day.
