Curse the damned sun coming too soon, I think. Has the night passsed? How many nights have passed? Have the drinks kept me in liar's company? Were the years just momentary synapse fires? burning from my outer-edges inward. Do we huddle from it, together, destined to watch our lives darken? And what of you? What comes of the small lives we made in the dark? The lives I don't deserve. If you are a dream; if our children are dreams, Then you are good dreams, and I curse that hateful morning. If there rises the damned sun, and I wait afraid, stay in my arms and cover my eyes. don't let it wake me.
Very moving