Comes With The Fall XII - An Epilogue (closing credits)

Groan and stir still clad in last night's clothes
Rub enough sand from your eyes to fill a small desert
Seven AM sun spills through the window
In several small beams, dissected by the branches of the beech
Feels like a sledgehammer has been taken to your skull
And mouth tastes like 100 ashtrays
Mind is full of fleeting imagery
Can't shake the feeling that the night's sleep brought strange dreams