I Could Be Dreaming

I could be dreaming I could have ordinary people chasing me from town to town Mission Impossible They've got a spy for every blink of your eye I'm feeling hunted I'm feeling haunted They've got a knife for every time you take the same train into work A family's like a loaded gun You point it in the wrong direction someone's going to get killed If you had such a dream Would you get up and do the things you've been dreaming Is he your husband? Or just your boyfriend? Is he the moron who's been beating you and keeping you inside? I've never done this kind of thing But if I kill him now, who's going to miss him? I went up to the school I went up Castlehill For every step there is a local boy who wants to be a hero Do you want to do it now? Outside the butchers with a knife and a bike chain '...Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener by constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of his majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade, of a long lazy summer’s day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman’s money to have heard the profound discussions which sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands, from some passing traveler. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper, learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary...'