When you lay your head in bed my child,nI'll sing you something sweet,nLike when I'm older losing my hair,nmany years from now.nAnd if perchance you wake, my child,nyou'll find us right upstairs.nAnd I know you'll run but if it's not done,nwould you lock the door?nnBut I hope that you will dreamnof floating down, not crawling upnthe stairs to where you're safe,nbut still listening for sounds and waiting,nfor someone to save you from the dark. So start. . . nnI'd still sing you that song my child,nbut you're singing it now.nAnd now I'm older, losing my hair.