Among the walking ghosts of night
There is no colour in our thoughtsOnly deep shades of inconsequence
And find no rest among their whispers
They are the judgment of the dark
Conclusions that itch and prick
Force us to rise in a demi-dream
Swirl within the nocturne carnival
And scratch the scabs of inquisition
And then we may change eternally
When clarity comes in all its depth
And simplicity stings us like revival
A revelation delivered swiftly
Racing away like some macabre steeplechase
Upon declining time and losing odds
And then all old thoughts are burned away
Unequal day is lost among starlight
So when I next sleep wake me not
I am thought time has now forgot