The Toy

What a fool, familiar dream I wake up laughing and running From the boy crying and coming 'Cause the toy in my hand is real What a tool we're building here In the sphere, that's where we all die In the eye, that's where I'm living The toy in my hand is real In the room, her warm hands play On my breast, what is she singing? The form ringing and ringing 'Cause the toy in my hand is real The toy in my hand is real Charcoal womb, the jet planes purr And the croon, distant as paper Children burn, faceless vapor 'Cause the toy in my hand is real Yes, the toy in my hand is real