Here comes the night, with its palace disregard. Another night spent at the ready, to sleep or fight through sound tigers out in the yard. The night is for getting. Night is for getting. Night is forgetting. Here comes the time, for dreaming the dream we are. Another time, til slowly, we weren't. The way you say, "It's fine,' calm and enough. Yet, there's a weird undercurrent -- a we're undercurrent? -- a weird undercurrent in your voice when you say, "Hush-hush baby, hush! Everything will turn out alright. Hush baby, hush. Now, we really need some quiet." Here comes the day, dewdrops on the luminous veil. Another day spent in the netting where, you fight - you pay, on spiderlegs, on colder trails. Yeah, but night is forgetting. Night is forgetting. Night is for getting til you say, "Hush baby, hush! Everything will turn out alright. Hush, baby hush. Now we really need some quiet. Quiet. Quiet! Quiet."