As the night wanes, the dawn rises weary and old,

Rays of light from a broken sun hits, torn

Eyes barely shut, shunning the daylight.

The covers pull in, like that of a blight.

The seven of anything, take me back

Take me so i don’t face the wreck

that is my life. Oh to not wake.

Soul is bent to the point of break.

The embrace, take and hold

me, myself and who i am to be

Oh the fight, the war, i am torn

Must rise, may it be weary may it be old.