Dream-Makers' Favor

The old man sat back in his chair
Looked like a monument so old
Visions of his past underneath his white hair
Not even bothered by the cold
Oh dream-maker do me favor
Take me back to my ripe young age
Let me touch and let me savor
All these illusions of my yesterdays
A young boy comes home a lttle early
Another night it will be a long one
His face is pale and his clothes are dirty
He takes a nap cause he knows he can't run
Oh dream-maker do me a favor
Take me up to my ripe young age
Let me touch and let me savor
All these illusions my heart can fake
A young man wakes up in the ghetto
A bloody switchblade in a holster
His mind is twisted aint got no halo
His eyes are black and full nof moisture
Oh dream-maker do me a favor
Take me away from this ripe young age
Let me touch and let me savor
The words I found on this Holy page