Richard Bryant

I sleep like a baby in a treetop when I'm high

When I'm low I sleep six feet underground

I wrap myself in sheetrock, lay my head upon an anvil

So my bad dreams never dare to get me down

I fall down like roadkill every time you never call

But I rise again when I hear you speak my name

Why should I wipe my glasses? I see you with my eyes closed

Though it hurts to think you might not see it the same

So I'm hittin' the hay with a blankety-blank

I'm waiting for my mind to go blankety-blank

I wish you were here

I sleep with one eye open and the other closed up tight

The better to see you try to figure this one out

I hear you knock the front door. I spot you on the ceiling.

I watch you hang back in a long winedark shadow of doubt

I'm hittin' the hay with a blankety-blank

I'm waiting for my mind to go blankety-blank

I wish you were here