Yet Untitled Song

Hey folks. Have you ever written a song in a dream, and it was FREAKING AWESOME!?!? Well, I have. "Awesome" is relative. Well, this morning in a hypnopompic state, I wrote the following song. Realizing that I liked it a really lot, I willed myself awake and wrote down as much as I could remember. I lost a bit in the waking, but I filled it out and here is the current draft:

As I amble though the back roads of the place inside my mind
Hauling 'round the carcass of the boy I left behind
Enjoying, loathing lonely freedom, not expecting what to find
I'm stuck within this synapse, on a frozen beam of time

Is it God or Christ
Is it sin or vice
Which will make this dead boy live?
To find within
This aching skin
The will and strength to forgive?

My eyes look ever downward and I kick a single stone
I'm surrounded by the masses, yet choose to be alone
The bitterness of exile infects my very bones
Resplendent joy has waned away; this is why I roam

I long to resurrect the splendid boy who once was me
To lift my head from being dead, to look with eyes that see

The locusts died from famine as they spread their wings to fly
My first-born son, my inner-child, was passed and did not die
But a requiem inside of him will soar toward the sky
Shall he die in truth an honest youth, or give life to a lie?

Is it me or them
Who stand condemned
Or can we hope for all?
O hear me now
The words of my mouth
And save us from the Fall

My fractured spine is re-aligned, my bones are filled with marrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow
This strengthened sinew and health-filled navel finds hope beyond the morrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow