There is a time Before dawn Where one sleeps or thinks Dreams with angels or lies alone with his demons I can wish upon stars Pray to the gods But I can't sing songs If nobody's listening There is a moment In deepest night Where one wonders about The man waking at the other end of the world How does he break his fast? Does he pray to the same gods? Does he wonder about the man Who lies his head to rest? Do notes from my lute And words from my mouth Echoing through empty cities Still make a difference if the tune is forgotten? Does the cry of wolves Deserve my attention? Can I be My only audience? All of these and more Race through one's head When there's nothing left But to lie and hope for sleep
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