Cold have been my dreams of late,
Petty reflection upon my cruel fate,
Sleepless, brutal, unyielding rest it became,
Wicked Sand Man, my dreams he cannot tame,
Loss of home,
Friendless, alone,
To be cradled I beg upon a concrete sky,
Hear my convictions I cry,
With familiar despair I plea to the night,
Hear it as a prayer forthright,
Partless promises, painfully I ponder...
I but cold, petty, sleepless, wicked from loss,
Pray upon a soulless cross,
"May the devil of my dreams hold me tight",
A feeling of embrace I might,
Alone I invoke, may being alone calm,
For what am I, me alone, but a matchless palm,
I, me alone, an uncharasmatic charm,
For what are you and I but heartless and broken,
You and I but restless souls eternally woken,
Awake I shall remain,
As you the same,
Death at night peaceful it now seems,
The only cure to the poison of my dreams.
