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Mother tuck me in turn out the light, so I can travel safely through the night.
Shut my forehead, kiss the door and I'll float off into quantum reality.
The sun's holding its breath at the bottom of the ocean; if I roll over on my face there will be no morning. The roads wind and the signs lie; if I'm not tucked in my new home will be "Not a Through Street."
I shake hands with a pleasant nightmare. He invites me into his townhouse for milk and buttered rolls. He tells me of his children, whom he never sees, far away in the head-plays of the sleeping.
I grow drowsy. Nightmare tuck me in and say Amen, send me to a second r.e.m.
Will you wake me if I start to shake? - but he didn't answer, Nightmare sang to me-sang, in a beautiful voice: Good night, sleep-tight, don't let the bed-bugs bite my bed, I'm travelling through the night on a bobsled.
Over sine wave snowdrifts until the sun could no longer hold its breath, rising, forcing me to walk the rest of my mother's night.
Mother place my lip upon your breast, I've gone a million miles and need some rest. Mother, smash my newborn head, so I can travel safely through life dead.