Another Brick In The Wall

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Sometimes I cannot help but dream
Of horrid things that to me seem,
Ghost no sane man should ever see,
Like ill specters which never rest,
And as my heart pounds in my chest,
I hold my breath, unendingly.

I can feel their heinous presence,
As I predict painful events,
Filled with punishment and scorning,
I know my soul will never rise,
My pasture’s brown, with cloudy skies,
Retribution for sins of morning.

Sometimes I pray I wake up dead,
Or find my innocence instead,
There’s a war of shame and pride,
But guilt is easier to fight,
When the sun scares off the night,
Until then I can only hide.