100 DREAM MIDNIGHT

At midnight, one midnight in ’72, I wandered the city with nothing to do. I wandered the city as if I were dreaming, The blood in my temples insistently drumming. The doing of nothing took most of the night, So slow was my progress downwind of the light. So slow was my progress I thought I was dreaming, The blood in my temples insistently drumming. With nothing to guide me or show me my way, I knew where I was as if walking by day. I knew where I was, but I must have been dreaming, The blood in my temples insistently drumming. As if an idea had a substance to clutch I might have been holding you, warm to the touch. I might have been holding you rather than dreaming, The blood in my temples insistently drumming. Bewildered by doubt as my fancy became, I thought I could hear you saying my name. I thought I could hear you, but I was dreaming, The blood in my temples insistently drumming. In separate places and separate hearts We blended our voices, exact counterparts. We blended our voices into our dreaming, The blood in our temples insistently drumming.