My sleepless nights aren't white, barely bright
_____
Small holes in the watertight canvas
_____
Sad rhinestones on the veil
_____
And me, spellbound by darkness
_____
I spend endless hours
_____
Counting funeral sheep
_____
That line my insomnia
_____
And the less I sleep the more I think
_____
And the more I think the less I forget
_____
The vast dead end, the endless space
_____
That stretch at the bottom of my bed
_____
It's unheard-of, all these silences
_____
How cosmic this boredom is
_____
Should I turn to science?
Anesthetize the insomnia?
_____
And then past midnight I dance
_____
To the beat of tachycardias
_____
And everything races and everything sways
_____
And everything lays me out and everything escapes me
_____
The moon's a slightly rancid fruit
_____
Those who dream are really lucky
_____
And the others have insomnia
_____
Those who dream are really lucky
_____
And the others have insomnia
_____
Those who dream are really lucky