Listen.
The words are spinning tales,
arduously, waking me, again.
I look out,
restless and forlorn but
the rain falls drowning them out
I could feel alright
I could feel alright
Tonight is reaching under the twilight,
pulling his covers off of him
Triggered in the morning
alarms sing and reverbate
off of these four walls
I could feel alright
when twilight turns to night
when night rises with the silver moon
but for the daylight,
when does security arise?
Dawning Creations 
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