The ******* dog visits again,
Preventing you from sleeping.
Now, it makes you insane,
Knowing you're a thinking thing.

It shows you how much space you have,
Beside the wide bed where you lie.
How cynicism towards love,
Left you high and dry.

You think of your past attempts,
Which failed for they were pretends.
You realize how you're mind is bent,
Confusing signals, it sends.

Now, you see a face in your mind,
Who'll probably just wither and die.
When will you ever find,
Someone, on your shoulder, who shall lie?