we can´t listen to your stories
about right ways dead ends and final glory
we´re too tired now to concentrate
we´re too nervous to hesitate
with closed eyes we will stumble over our feet
but it´s too bright and there´s nothing to see
we can´t move the way you expect
we will crawl limp stagger with autistic nonchalance
across your patterns until they are gone
when we sleep you should sneak or creep
hold your breath let us take our rest
cause we are just friends of you when we sleep