Deep in the bosom of the gentle night is when I search for the light.
They cut my pain and start to write.
I struggle to fight dark forces in the clear moonlight without fear.
Insomniac.
I
used to worry,
thought I was going mad in a hurry,
getting stressed,
making excess mess in darkness.
No electricity.
Something's all over me.
Greasy.
Insomnia.
Please release me and let me dream of
making mad love to my girl on the Heath.
Tearing off tights with my teeth,
but there's no release,
no peace.
I toss and turn without cease.
Like a curse, open my eyes and rise like yeast.
At least a couple of weeks since I last slept kept taking sleep.
But now I keep myself pecked deeper still.
The night I write by candlelight, I find in
sight fundamental movement.
So when it's black,
this insomniac take an original tack.
Keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack.
I gets no sleep.
I can't get no sleep.
I can't get no sleep.
I can't get no sleep.
I need to sleep.
I can't get no sleep.
I need to sleep.
I can't get no sleep.