sandman's dust

Each and every night i fall asleep with tears upon my pillow


Happy; Sad; Confused; Nervous; Ecstatic or Mad


It doesn't much matter anymore these days


For when the sandman enters my room


And sprinkles his dust on my sweet face


My mind starts up and in every direction


Over analyzing everything that day


Playing the never ending "what if" game


I have no control over any of this

There must be something in the sandman's magic dust



                                                    For i never fail to cry myself to sleep