Boxes of comic books,
drawers full of fright,
all wield their swords
because of the light.

The morning was different,
the sun's shield was bright,
but somehow with omen
because of the light.

With a foot on the floor,
another's delight,
is another's demise
because of the light.

Now slow down the clock,
foster a fight.
Now all bow your heads
and head towards the light.

Shred up the stale paper
of the old holy books,
that carried attention
look after look,
and close up the drawers
this fine, placid night,
seal off your subconsious,
with all of your might-
pull down the shades
to a minimal height,
try after try,
because of the light.