John O Dreams

All night someone is trying to tell you something.
The voice is a harbor, pulling you from underneath.
Where am I, you say, what's this and who are you?

When midnight comes, good people
homeward tread;
Seek now your blanket and your feather bed.
Home is the rover, her journey's over.
Yield up the darkness to old John of Dreams.
Yield up the darkness to old John of Dreams.

Across the hillls
The sun has gone astray.
Tomorrow's cares are many dreams away.
The stars are flying, your candle's dying.
Yield up the nighttime to old John of Dreams.
Yield up the nighttime...

The voice washes you up on the shore of your life.
You never knew there was land here.
The voice washes you up on the shore of your life.
You never knew there was land here.

Poor man and rich man in the night are one.
All things are equal when the day is done.
Rest til tomorrow, lay down your sorrow.
All find their comfort in old John of Dreams.
All find their comfort in old John of Dreams.

Now as you sleep, dreams come winging clear.
The hawks of morning cannot harm you here.
Sleep is a river, flows on forever,
And for your boatman choose old John of Dreams.
And for your boatman choose old John of Dreams.
And for your boatman choose old John of Dreams.

In the morning, you are awakened by gulls,
Flapping at the window, they want you to feed them.
All day you break bread into small pieces,
becoming the tide covering your straight clear tracks.