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Hardwood
Some never sleep again unless death is akin to slumber
Some sleep on pavement
Clutching that hard-earned bottle
To their breast like death
Some don't sleep
Wired on their drug of choice
They never think that the dreams they miss
May make them more whole
Some sleep soundly
In their nice cushioned beds on hardwood floors
In their estates bought of greed and the suffering
Of the dead the drunk the drugged
Somewhere a sleep so sound falls on some small child
He dreams of nothing but skies so blue that tears come
To his new little eyes
And he rocks in my arms in our rocking chair
There on the hardwood I scrubbed and sanded
So fine the rocking chair is silent
So silent tonight I think of the sleeping the dreaming
The guilty and I cannot sleep until morning comes knocking
I think I am haunted so much in the night
Some lie clutching the sheets as they sleep
They know that their dreams cannot ever be this black again
And the sleep I sink into is dreamless and pure
Like my child I am happy to sleep well tonight
