They keep on hunting me every night, every morning;
telling me of how good the morning is to live with your fear,
and how sweet the night is to meet them in your nightmares.
So I whispered a prayer,
I mumbled a plea,
I sang a lullaby just to get you out of me.
But you always crawl to my bed,
haunt me on my sleep,
wake me up at dawn to find myself chasing life as my chest heave.
He said to me that he'll be there to listen to my fears,
to tell my greatest nightmares for him to comfort me.
But I can no longer bear to tell my fears to my fears,
and to even let him tuck me to my melancholy.
