[Verse 1]

Shit, John, I feel like I can’t sleep as well as I-I used to

And you know I never sleep that good

I keep having this dream

I’m working at this paint factory down on Port

And it’s hard work

We're stirring the paint with our arms and, for some reason, it's all white paint

All eggshell and alabaster

Tons and tons of every shade of white you can imagine

[Verse 2]

The bosses, they're all white folk of course

Are always telling us to reach further into it

And some people are up to their shoulders already, you know

Anyway, one night as we are hanging out with one of the managers, the friendly guy

Drinking a couple of beers, watching some shooting stars out the window

He offers to buy every one another drink

He's trying really hard to be nice

Well, we weren’t going to stop him so he stepped out and I went to the bathroom

But then, there was this huge banging sound

And I go running to the guys, because I feel like something isn't right

And then I see this cricket knocking over huge tanks of white paint, just lakes

And the manager comes wading through this lake of ivory paint and he's screaming

And my neck and shoulders and hair are covered in this stuff, so I’m climbing the staircase

And he points at me, and he sees me

And he points at me and he yells, “What did you do?”

[Verse 3]

You know no one was gonna believe me about the cricket

But I tried to tell them that I didn’t do it

But you know it, the managers

They all came down and the guys I was working with, they were all suddenly gone

And I swore to God that I didn’t knock the paint over

At this point, all the heavy, liquid white, became like cobwebs

Like soft ash, and cracked bone

Then they all, they all say that they knew that I did it, because the cricket told them

The fucking cricket

And I say, “Who are you going believe, are you gonna believe a cricket over me?”

“I knew a few good crickets back in West Virginia,” one boss says

And then, the manager who’s always trying to be nice, he comes out

He looks to me, he says, look, I'm not trying to say that you are lying, but the others

I think I worked out a deal with the guys

Something that could work for everybody

You see, we have this, this red paint that we've been meaning to work with

[Verse 4]

The last thing I see in this dream is always the same

It's a sea of red, an angry, vulnerable, hurt, vengeful red

Like a biblical plague of locusts

Like blood

Like power gone rogue