Sleeping feels like death itself.
It is the under time, the quiet time.
Hush, little baby, don’t you cry
the Angels pass the waking ones
to take the slumbered few.
The Sandman is the Devil’s man
draining the souls of the living
down through sleep to death
the underworld sucking down souls
as sand slides through a sieve
pillows soft as the hangman’s noose
silk woven love, and braided
slide around the neck
like covers pulled tight
slowly choking the life away
rock a bye baby
say goodbye to the world
close your eyes and hush now
baby, the end is quiet
nightingale sings your sweet lullaby
dying under the comforter
of a warm blanket
the coffin lid obscures the light
oh don’t wake now, keep dreaming
defiance, little one, tires the mind
harvest moon wanes
red blood dripping
into the midnight glass of water
delta waving away ripples
the sandman cometh
a simple man 