are you one of mine who can sleep with one eye open wide agonizing psychotic solitary hours to decide reaching for the light at the slightest noise from the floor now your hands perspire heart goes leaping at a knock from the door in the dead of night in the dead of night rich and powerful ascend complicated bends to be free to indulge in what they will any jaded thrill or fantasy shuttered windows that belie all the stifled cries from within and prying eyes are blind to proceedings of the kind that begin in the dead of night in the dead of night in the dead of night in the dead of night1