Have you ever woken up startled
In the middle of the night

                   With the thought that your muse has left you
                   And cruelly turned out the lights

Leaving you afraid that in the morning
You'll wake up with no more rhyme

                    More often than not
                    These thoughts enter my head

Although I have often heard
Somethings are better left unsaid

                    I believe these thoughts I have
                    Would be better off dead

And these words that I now speak
Are they my muse or mine

                    And if the lights were turned off
                    Would that be that big a crime

When my muse tries to venture out
I believe the next time

                    I'll grab a hold, tie her up
                   And be the one to feed her the lines