Nighttime it is. Godammit again
half a yawn blinking in vain
all aboard the slumber train
steeped with sleep slowing brain
pittered in, in pattering rain
living it up in the slowest lane
tell me again what is it I gain
ritualistic cleaning of dream drain
you aren't mad, and I'm sane
Searching for hopes writ in plain
wipe it good, clean the stain
a li'l adjustment, yer eyes will train
now peer through this window pane
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