At night I think of wandering
And as I lay there pondering
I question where I'll go.

Will I press within my freakish mind?
And if I do, what will I find?
I question what I know.

Maybe I'll go to another place,
One of a more physical state,
Perhaps under flakes of snow.

The more I think, the more it's seeming
Like I should sleep and go to dreaming
But thoughts are steady flows.

And I hate to lie awake at night
But insomnia puts up a fight
Which means my mind puts on a show.