I had three dreams last night and one was a vision
The other two died in a nocturnal collision
One was a lost child and the other a lost friend
and I've got too much education to put off analyzing them
So pull up the blinds but please bleed the shutters
Cut the telephone lines and send a letter to those lovers
I emerged from my sleep and I counted my sorrows
You were one, two and three
You were three well-aimed arrows

The photographic image is so perfect it's cold
I burn ugly Ansel Adams in the winter to light my stove
While the image in the brain is either a missile or a carriage
One small impulse can raise a baby or sink the village
There's something under the surface that needs a light shone in its eyes
If you're securing a secret than you're preparing a lonesome surprise
I emerged from my sleep and I counted my sorrows
You were one, two and three
You were three well-aimed arrows
Three well-aimed arrows

I had three dreams last night and one was a vision
One carried a lantern and the other was dragging a curtain