Within my dakota dream, rests your rock
within your rock, I sleep like sunken ships
and when we wake, songs breathe to life
inside the ghost of irate storms
and lilies on the edge of streams dance
to no preying eyes.

You're writing poems on the ice again
the suite of the pioneer cannot slip.
Who won't like your bedside nonsense
it gave us time to think.

I've just enough time left
to flip a penny to midnight sky
and ride away on the trails of a high wish
inside the bark of trees old men find remedy of
within their breast, old secrets murmured in broken sleep.

It's here.
It's come.
Time to leave.
Again.

Don't bother turning out the light
it was never on.