Last night I dreamed of planes, they chased the wind like fevered wasps

A patch of self, picketed out by a small white fence in a red desert,
A red sky

Bomb showers on the skinny lot

Then some crude mole-ish man with long wispy eyebrows and a despicable beard 

Grunting little warlord chasing me around a room, 

Fighting with him

A jigsaw with a fine-toothed blade eight and a half feet long

He's getting all morbid trying to grasp it

Enough of this rubbish, listen here [ I route the saw-blade between jail bars and SNAP ]

I'm gonna put you on trial 

Wheezing and grunting

"Just wait, - wheeze - I'll have a fair trial 

not by you, bombs away"

...what the... silly unrepentant bloke wants mercy?

I took no action, the sting of time on my face

And here in waking consciousness, 

I see the lesson of my folly

if just to see him as Moley 

and hug him there 

I would be free

Be free, my brother Moley

In the light of love

We can be free