water spills down o'er

the glass left always full

there's a dew under the bed where

sweat and dreams hath tread

your feet would touch the floor

and drift around like boards

hang you like a lullabye



little voices left to rot and plot

the clenching of your teeth

might help you sleep

it will not lift you

you always wished you'd walk

through and o'er the salt

but it hangs you like a lullabye



dear lie still along my old web

cursed by your dust filled head