When the sun rises at the dawn,
hands will rise in a vain attempt to suppress a yawn.
Most will be up and about their day,
I will be wrapped in sleep dreaming of a rainy May.
For all those grave yard shift workers know,
that daylight betrays, in darkness we grow.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
When the sun rises at the dawn,
hands will rise in a vain attempt to suppress a yawn.
Most will be up and about their day,
I will be wrapped in sleep dreaming of a rainy May.
For all those grave yard shift workers know,
that daylight betrays, in darkness we grow.
