Lying awake
In the clutches of night
Under cover of darkness
In shadows I write
When the sun is too bright
And the laughter too loud
And the moon shining down
On my ghost in a crowd
Is but a storm cloud
Still at high noon it looms
Ever gray over graveyards
Of happiness tombs
Where my pen still exhumes
Me from buried alive
And each death that I draw
Is a fight to revive
That place where I thrive
All alone in my head
And my sweetest of dreams
Are when I wake up dead