Alarm sand that's filling up my head, concrete holding down my arms. Morning comes so merciless, clawing up from empty deaths. Sleep too short to mend these holes leaves me sputtering for air as the shrill sound of alarm iceberg strikes against my bow. Waking So just breaks anew all that rest attempts to heal. But instead a different sound rouses me from slumber's grip. Though exhaustion still holds sway, wonder calls for notice too slowly rolling Thunder Speaks echoing across the hills