John Richard Cornwall - At 6am lyrics

Winter, and this is like the dead of night. There might be rain outside, or a wind that upsets everything, I cannot tell. There is no light, not even a suggestion of the moon's light that must be there somewhere, somehow. I have imagined sleep, I think, that kind blanking of sensibilities that allows no thought but the useless and bizarre. I have imagined many things: desires and dependencies, the way in which pleasures turn to worries and distress, tarnish a world that had become golden and complete. But your words were not imagined. Each syllable damaged, each adjective fatal as an arrow to an easy target, each word risen beyond argument to the point of delusion. And now this is a moment of distraction, winter and no light, unable to guess at what might wait outside to comfort those who have become avoided by the pure light of the sun.