Reality is rigid, that much, she knows,

It doesn’t bend, doesn’t twist, it just seems to flow.

But as the sky turns yellow, and the people turn green,

She starts to wonder, just what, have I seen?

Reality or dreams which contort and shift,

It all just seems like a plot with twists.

As dreams turn to reality, and reality into dreams,

Everything falls apart, tearing at the seams.

It then falls away, like ashes or snow,

Reality is distorted, that much, she knows.