Thieves are the night But they are not thieves That is just a dusty title They take only in your sleep And they take only what you don't have the strength to discard In dreams you must shed clean And rest in your new vulnerable sack Or you shall insomniate in your kept leavings You'll go quick mad with trains of ideas And fast blood Many perish when they power the buffets And tightening elements Instead of serenely observing from within the sway
The thieves are amiable in our sleepy wound But stray awake They become fidgeting dead weight in blotted corners Or perched leaden upon your chest Playing with different ****** experiments A knowing one over a fearful child
They are soon to knit together Your heart condition Your madness Or your nervy puppet disposition And your **** path To a less restless And more organic bed
It is here that I must rest my words And match the horizon upon a mattress I breeze my mind And project a welcoming state To the thieves and the night.