The seventeenth century
Sleep is the sweetest of all
When in it we fall,
Each night, from such great height,
That in the morning there’s mourning
For this temporary death.
So, when you go to bed tonight
Don’t fall so deep,
just lay there.
And dream sour.
Sweet dreams do have great power.
All of you beware,
For out of that chasm creeps
A kingdom with great might.
They may come get you tonight.
