Go forth, sleepy child,
Through those howling winds
That dance to the endless night;
Thumping thuds of a lions heart,
Pouncing down the hills.

Go forth, sleepy child,
Through the shattered glass rain
That soars through a smoke-stained sky;
Like ten thousand exploding stars
Still mourning for the sunset

Go, find thy bed of crimson joy,
Though the question may be cold,
And the darkness may be deafening,
As the spaces between words,
Stretch between galaxies.

Go forth, sleepy child,
Through the blinding night,
Those howling winds.
Go, find thy bed,
of Crimson joy,
And sleep,
My child,
Sleep.