The sound of a fan whips about the room
A cool breeze on a warm summer night
The clouds block the stars
And the moon too has gone to bed
I feel all alone in this world of the living dead
So much it now seems, leaves desired things
Yet ask and you shall receive has never been more false
It's all a chain you see, made with many , many links
And tomorrow brings a bout of forgetfulness
So sleep, please, and leave insomnia induced beliefs
For when day breaks once more
On the land once called shore
The past will fade to shadow and need to be relived
