Sleepy Town

Under the sky on a plain
there lies a sleepy town
With sleepy red-bricked houses
And sleepy men who live their lives away

In a house by the brook
A young man opens his eyes
On his desk: a tattered book
Which he reads with languid sighs

Inside his house inside a room
Papers flow from table to floor
He writes his fevered passions
In the only way he's ever known

Oh, he is a dreamer
lost amid a pile of words
rich and flowing in obsidian ink
but unknown to the world forever

The red bricked house groans under time
And the sleepy town becomes a city;
One day an old man is found dead
The wonder gone from the heart of the fireplace

For the last time, his name appears:
A tiny box in the papers
Amid a thousand other men