I lit a thin green candle (to start a poem)
Under the coming storm, faith has dealt me a knight
So give back my keys
I must open the gates for your peace
Maybe then I'll get some sleep
Or my conjuring comfort calling quit
And we all will be doomed, washed behind big hospital with matching socks,
Knocked by purple morphine, pink tic-tacs
Still then I bet we won't be asleep