Some nights I lay me down to sleep,

And fail, despite the counted sheep;

For as the waking minutes pass,

My thoughts in turmoil cry, alas.

Though logic says all will be well,

Imagination conjures hell.

And then the waking nightmares churn,

So all the night I toss and turn.

And as the skies begin to bring

The dawn’s light, calling birds to sing,

Slumber finally approaches,

But alarm clock’s clamour broaches.

Another restless night has passed,

And waking weariness amassed

As all day long it seems conspired

To keep me permanently tired.

Oh Morpheus I need you now

To release me please somehow,

That I may then resume my life,

Away from all this sleepless strife.