How'd he get my address anyway

The monk who invented champagne
Who knew all the bubbles
By their separate names
And would call them
One by one
In his sleep
Had dreams of the opals and diamonds
He stole from the sky
To put in his drink
And kept in his journal
Each dream that he had
And handed it down straight to me

Now when I sleep
With champagne on my breath
I toss and I turn
And diamonds poke at my sides
And opals blind my closed eyes
And I hope that old monk f-in’ burns