I'm feeling so awake even though I'm half-dead. Turning, shaking, sweating cold in my own bed. I'm dreaming when I'm wide-awake and talking in my sleep. Burning bridges, ticking clocks, and counting black sheep. Has my ship come in, I'm ready to embark. Sure, I'll play the quiet one, just for a lark. If I could fight the cold wind with a shiver in the fold and brave the bitter winter night without getting cold, I could fight this feeling and be myself again, and leave all the malice in the palace of the old men. Fending off the waves where all the children stop to swim. Don't fall back, it's simple now, I knew that I could win.