While most are counting sheep at night
When trying to go to sleep
The poet is searching for words to write
So the little lambs won't weep

The paper becomes the poet's sleeve
As he wipes his pain away
His pen becomes the poet's sword
To keep the wolves at bay

The sheep that cause our eyes to close
Must always be protected
For wolves can sneak into our dreams
Sometimes undetected

The poet writes of the sheep we count
While staring at the clock
Writing words to stop the wolves
From picking off the flock

So when you start to close your eyes
And count the sheep tonight
Remember the poet who slays the wolves
With the words that he will write