Oh how I love the dead of night,
In darkness still sleep creatures tight,
And yet when comes the break of dawn
I stand in awe of golden light.

Night runs a shadowed marathon,
That yields at morn to red claxon,
Cacophony of ringing sound
My wake-up call phenomenon.

This bell, that wakes me to my rounds
Within my wicked mind resounds
It cries out, lest I sleep too deep,
And never after will be found.

The night is lovely, how it creeps,
Through dreamscaped hills that curl and weep,
And leave me, fallen in too deep,
To perish, while still fast asleep.