When I was in school at SUNY Oswego in 2011 I somehow got in touch with Albany based producer "Daimyo". He'd sent me this instrumental and wanted to work together for a project he was doing. I fell in love with the production and I went to work on crafting this idea that our good dreams are inspired by our future ambitions, our nightmares are inspired by the past we are haunted by, which, of course, leaves our waking life as the present, as we live to churn out fodder for out sleeping life. Buffalo based musician Tony Iannone, the RA on my friend's floor, had recording equipment in his dorm room so he graciously recorded and mixed my vocals in there. The title is a reference to Stephen King's collection of short stories. While Daimyo's project regrettably never came to fruition, this remains one of my favorite songs/exercises in lyricism and philosophy to date.
lyrics
I'm on an over-night-mare flight on a guilt trip
Hate at first hindsight, regrets the bed's filled with.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regret and
Dreams desires for the future
making waking life the present. (x1)
I stretch my legs as I'm drawn and quartered,
when taking a long sleep walk off a pier that's shorter,
You know what they say about any port in the storm's force,
I lead my nightmares to the scorching awful waters
in order to all learn to drink more from
everything but hell's kitchen sink...you're getting warmer
Cauterize my wounds with the boiling point that's offered
Burnt alive crucified on bridges or would
you rather drown in troubled tear ridden rivers roaring,
I'll climb the fire latter to the former,
My filthy psyche might be guilty driving me to the source of
madness but I'm no tourist, trapped with the horrors
that kill-time-outs in every corner of my mind now that saunters
often feels as though its haunted,
Night Terrorists thrive, therapists approach with caution..
It seems "dreamer" is a sordid demeanor that sure can
leave you lost and unfulfilled until you've filled a coffin,
it's a steep price to afford for
talking about a cheap life with paupers,
waking up on the wrong side of the cardboard or
the flip side of the quarter soaring down the morbid
poisoned-wishing-well-spring-water-board-torture...
I'm on an over-night-mare flight on a guilt trip
Hate at first hindsight, regrets the bed's filled with.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regret and
Dreams desires for the future
making waking life the present. (x2)
Ain't that pleasant? Assess it for a second,
Digest the messages I've penned then projected in your headset.
Recollections are costly expensive when you regret them,
and they fester in your head when you're nestled in your bedspread.
While you're hibernating, your mind is racing
aligning great things you're anticipating
while you're asleep cradled and lay
you're free and able to stray from
concentrating on the labors of day so...
I stretch my legs as I chase my pipe dreams
I've a dream catcher that I admit shyly
“I hope it adds mitts excitedly
lending a hand if things get frightening.”
Fittingly when we die indeed we get a wake I mean,
Why not the same treatment when things get alarming and unsightly?
I count blind sheep with the wool over my eyes pleading
to herd a nice deep night's sleep.
My lids tightly squeezed despite these
shutting out the light, it reaps
so many sights seen
I travel the world in forty winks sprightly,
Courtesy of my dream theater's quite clean
cerebral cinema projector's high beams.
These abstract distractions in my mind seem
to find pieces of my goal-poster-child-hood-life-scenes
and design schemes to address all enveloping
hallucination considerations arriving,
that I've harbored to float homages and boats
in my prophesea-world-view-finder's-fee
Escape in my L.S.D. esque escapades that provide themes to inspire me.
If Tim Burton weirdly traveled in time to meet
Tim Leary you might see clearly the styling and theories
colliding in my hallucinatory hi jinx
superficial stories' implied things
symbolic future image imploring bindings.
Chorus:
Dreams conscious products of my mental gear's running parts
Fulfillment accomplished cardiac compasses' pumping heart.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regretted
Dreams desires for the future
Making waking life the present
In a canvas-sleeping-bag I proceed to paint dreamscapes
in my R.E.M.Brandt sleep. I concede to create lovely art of the ugly dark,
20,000 leagues placed under the sheets I wait
for their seams to make a streaming cape or lead the way
as I sail on my water bed in my dream boat Cutty Sark with Snuggy parts,
following mental mirages of Magellan charts and crafted maps,
So I'm gonna pack bags under my eyes when I hit that satin sack,
I'm a sheep herder you can count on that fact
I dream of leading at least one of these nine lives benignly in cat naps...
Dreams conscious products of my mental gear's running parts
Fulfillment accomplished cardiac compasses' pumping heart.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regretted
Dreams desires for the future
Making waking life the present
I'm on an over-night-mare flight on a guilt trip
Hate at first hindsight, regrets the bed's filled with.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regret and
Dreams desires for the future
making waking life the present.
Dreams conscious products of my mental gear's running parts
Fulfillment accomplished cardiac compasses' pumping heart.
Maybe night terrors are the past you regretted
Dreams desires for the future
Making waking life the present
Left-field rapper, slam poet, singer/songwriter, and author Bruce Pandolfo from Long Island.
Creating to connect. Obsessively exploring and creating art as healing and growing.
Deeply vivid/introspective lyrics populate this ambitious folk rock project. The arrangements span from mellow/minimal to rocking and grandiose. Consistently emotive, unique and sincere. Brilliance. AllOne
Progressive yet punk, aggro yet emotional. One of my favorite bands from Long Island and doing everything they can to live up to their name, raising money for causes and making badass music, AllOne
supported by 4 fans who also own “Nightmares and Dreamscapes (Daimyo)”
I have been listening to variations of this album a long time. I remember I was living in a cardboard dumpster when some young guy was like yo dude it's gonna rain come crash on my couch. He played The Many Faces of Oliver Hart for me. I fell in love, I set my favorite track as Rain because we looped it when the rain came. That was one of the early acts of kindness I received in the nearly 20 years I've been homeless. @NomadRoamsFree
