There is survival in the morning
And over are the arrant things
Where trees and redwoods shake
The hopes and break with silent warning.
There is velvet treasure in the day.
When fleshy judgement wakes the night
And brings me to the ball of reason
With fading wisdom, distorted eyes.
Time will heal they say, time will heal
Do they remember how it feels?
There is a house, there is a room,
There is a bed to rest your lonely head.
