Stained by Pomegranate

my fingers red from pomegranate seeds
your face flashing green asks the night sky
are dreams less sweet when we are screaming?
I lay back and look up the tree's dress
thinking about teachers lost in the dadada
maybe god chooses the brussel sprout over the cotton candy today
I can't hear your voice when I'm sleeping
but I can't forget your face
in waking life I hope for just a slice
my fingers are stained with pomegranate
for I will always choose red foods over orange
but it's the green ones that I dream of
is this the small part of the night or the sliver of morning ?
either way cut me off a piece
I'll need the energy fighting doubts like windmills
loosing street addresses to find my miss adventures
I could surrender now but that just puts me back at the beginning
I don't fly in my dreams but I do smoke sometimes
staring into your eyes sends me adrift
it's probably just illusion , it's probably just allure
it's probably destiny
did i mention my fingers being stained by pomegranate seeds?
oh I miss the days of Montreal!