Stirring after sleeping too long
Next to his place of work
Others have a drive to their employment
But he only needs to put on a shirt
This disorienting task is done in the cold
with little hope in personal might
Though the morn is when the day breaks
for hours the house remains night
And there he sits, reading an old religion
just stooped over in his chair.
But from across the room he sees a figure
its the Sandman with a sleepy lulling stare.
Get back vile creature!
Bristles the man at bay.
I know I’ve got to do this
No one is wishing you would stay!
All he thinks about is counting sheep
the Sandman with his toothy yellow grin
He keeps many from waking early
He toils so that our days may not begin