The morning is weary my eyes speak to shenWho sleeps on the pillow where my body used to benThe terrible street sinks its claws all in to menWith persuasive dreams of rust's discoverynnNow what is this sickness that swims through my brain?nAre there bats in the tower of rats lost in the maze?nI've seen wandering soldiers without candles continuenTrudging the darkness which surrounds to suffocatennBut just like a leaf that tumbles unseennSlipping through the careless changing fingers of the windnI know something brought her breathless to this sleep and to beginnLoving the scoundrel whose tall shadows on the walls are going dimnnSo one day he steps forward and the next he can't speaknAnd the safe shield he assumed falls broken in a heapnUntil there's nothing but truth like garbage at his feetnAnd he must stare into the scraps and take back his couragennTo scorn hesitation newly born from this doubtnTo breach his own reflection and return from withoutnWhile the walls march around hanging space across her skinnHoping for more time to erase her from him