I lay there, just counting the spots on the ceiling,
reflecting upon this remote little feeling.
I toss in the bed and I try now to slumber,
but sleep will not come to me; sleep never does.

I try to stand straight but I notice I'm leaning.
I'm speaking these words and I don't know their meaning.
A smile is forming without any reason;
to keep up appearances, no clue to why.

I ask if you know where the keys are a hanging.
“They’re hung by the door,” as the fireworks are banging.
Explosions are filling my head like a thunder,
And sleep will not come to me; sleep never does.

I wake from the tossing and turning and dreaming.
The sunlight reflects off the moon and it’s beaming.
I look at her, smile, and I know there’s no treason.
Such happiness fills me and sleep comes at last.