Kings of this sleeping is one, the dreamer boasts his wings. Strings to follow, walks by the stream, but on her journey Cat wonders, does the Moon Dream?
Cat is a cat, much like another. Cat fur of black, born of no mother. Cat with no brother, no sister to pother, Cat is a cat, much like another. But Cat is different, a cat so rare. A cat always haunted, on land and air. Unfair, Cat’s life, dangers everywhere, for this city is large yet care found nowhere. Scared and tired, from dream to dream she skips. Her trips an adventure, seas of tales she ships. Sail the dream of sleepers, inhabitants of the dangerous Filizeus, the unfair city that offers no truce. Confused, Cat asks, hunt her why they do. Bad omen, they call her, that cannot be true. Through peril she sprints, wounds open then heal, and in the dreams she invades, skewed truth seeks to reveal.
Oh so tired you must be, running from mountain to sea, through mud high up to the knee, from the hunt longing to be free.
Such songs signify the spirits seeking this stubborn soul, this cat named Cat who through dreams she strolls. This dream she finds herself in has her agitated. Frustrated, like a cat on hot bricks, incapacitated. Doors float, buildings shift, enters a cottage and exits a cave. Goat in a boat, in the air adrift, lost Cat rides waves. Waves of snow inside which there’s a grave; grave in a graveyard, with no names engraved. Behave the guard warns, old coot in overalls and a bag for a hat. A brat of a cat, he scowls, never good news with one at the doormat. But to rest she has no time, no luxury to argue with the shabby geezer. To another dreamer she must climb, stable and safer, a dream to relax and ease her.
Why do you run, with me why not unite, these tricks and charade why do you pursue? It can’t be fun to keep this fight, the pain in my heart if only you knew.
It is not fun, the cats transmits her thoughts, and for fun this I do not do. Join you I cannot, my head is tied in knots, I fought and sought for a life anew. But free I seemingly can’t be, hence you seek to subdue. So with the chase push through, you and the moon I will outdo, to my damned name I will live up to. Cat the coal ghost, foremost feared as a wicked host, outmost dangerous from coast to coast, to open fields and shielded conceals, to innermost dreams she seamlessly seams. That is I, that be how my name goes. Given not chosen, by Filizeus imposed.
From cat to dog, to weasel and snake she shifts her shape with ease. A bat in the fog, no mistakes made, takes wings through the breeze. The sun has risen, so have the sleeping minds. The moon now gives up her chase, leaves Cat to struggle through the streets of mankind. They hiss and yell and frown and howl, they scowl and bawl, cry out and shriek. Scared and ignorant, to Cat they growl, safety from evil they seek. They grapple and sweat, toil and cry… Nightmares run amok, on your side you had luck, luck only gets you so far.
Cat is a cat, a cat like no other. All through the night, her light burns with might. Out of spite she outshines the moon.