Wreckers

Disturbed by all of the commotion,
when the oak was shook.
Finally you wake
two minutes too late.
Were you ever this late?

There's a fire on the sidewalk
as halves of our people
are encased in the AM with you.

Do you answer? And what is your reply?
Trip over your thoughts and let the curtain fall back?
Move like a dancer, the light flickered and spat.
Slip under the covers and into the black.

The Wreckers are waiting.

Dead man's curve in a sleepy town,
where the oak was shook.
Up at the window, alone at the window
they see you retreat to a sweeter sleep.

Trapped by misfortune
still the overturned call to you
"Mr. no-one can hear me but you."

Do you answer? And what is your reply?
Trip over your thoughts and let the curtain fall back?
Move like a dancer, the light flickered and spat.
Slip under the covers and into the black.

The Wreckers are waiting.
They'll always be waiting.

...and you sleep on in sweet oblivion.