Sound asleep. Am I dreaming this might be.

Things of the North East facing danger in defeat. The scare crow has eyes. You are made of lead, why do you hide. Now that you've kept the years locked up inside your made of carbon. Pity me, slit my evening to fade at light. Poor pitiful me. Crying in the dark write on the wall. Though you are kind it still won't pay my bills. Electric guitar, steel guitar, flat iron guitar. Dan the man let it rip. Awe of that sound a sleep.