Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you were older
You were looking like Picasso with a scar across your shoulder
You were kneeling by the river, you were digging up the bodies buried long ago
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed you were a pilgrim
On a highway out alone to find the mother of your children,
Who were still unborn and waiting in the wings of some desire abandoned long ago
Michelangelo
Were you there at Armageddon, sparing city burning?
Could I have been the one to pull you from the point of no returning?
And did I hear you calling out my name, or was it forgotten long ago,
Michelangelo?
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you were riding
On a blood-red painted pony up where the heavens were dividing
And the angels turned to ashes; you came tumbling with them to the earth so far below
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you lay dying
In a field of thorns and roses with a Huckabuck crying
For the warrior slain in battle from an arrow driven deep inside you long ago
Michelangelo
Did you suffer at the end, there with no one to remember?
And did you banish all the old ghosts by the terms of your surrender?
And could you hear me calling out your name? Well, I guess that I will never know
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you were weeping,
And your tears poured down like diamands for a love beyond all keeping
And you caught them one by one in a million silk bandanas that I gave you long ago
Michelangelo
You were looking like Picasso with a scar across your shoulder
You were kneeling by the river, you were digging up the bodies buried long ago
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed you were a pilgrim
On a highway out alone to find the mother of your children,
Who were still unborn and waiting in the wings of some desire abandoned long ago
Michelangelo
Were you there at Armageddon, sparing city burning?
Could I have been the one to pull you from the point of no returning?
And did I hear you calling out my name, or was it forgotten long ago,
Michelangelo?
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you were riding
On a blood-red painted pony up where the heavens were dividing
And the angels turned to ashes; you came tumbling with them to the earth so far below
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you lay dying
In a field of thorns and roses with a Huckabuck crying
For the warrior slain in battle from an arrow driven deep inside you long ago
Michelangelo
Did you suffer at the end, there with no one to remember?
And did you banish all the old ghosts by the terms of your surrender?
And could you hear me calling out your name? Well, I guess that I will never know
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you; I dreamed that you were weeping,
And your tears poured down like diamands for a love beyond all keeping
And you caught them one by one in a million silk bandanas that I gave you long ago
Michelangelo