Lights out at 7:09
At the right time
I come to you in many rhymes
Depends on how you look at your wine
As it's aged into
Skip into morning 7:09
The repose of yesterday's intoxication
Is in the form of a knife
And within those 12 hours, my doors were latched tight
My covers weren't warm, they were alright
The shoved cloth, that arrested the hands that were already tied
I died of medical causes, or maybe, I became blind
I'm haunted by the very thing that helps me sleep at night