Oh what an hour for thought, my most hated of all times.
The way you keep me up so restless, the way you paint black my eyes.

There is only silence with music, rhythm without an end.
The lasting laughing hatter sitting, quietly without friends.

But when the sun comes up in the morning, when everything is right in place.
The darkness seems to linger,
Dead last winner with a mindful of the never ending race.