Another night, another dream
Down in the mines working the seam
It looks like gold but I could be a fool
Working my axe like a writing tool.
Another day, another hope
Letting myself down another rope
What will I send up from the dark?
What letter written on petrified bark?
Another smile, another word
This is my feathered quill, my sword
That scratches my skin, strokes of blood
Staves off the drowning, the bitter flood.