Oh What Beasts, And Nightly

There’s a beast in my closet.

There’s a beast on my shelf.

There’s a beast wolfing string cheese

And I can’t help myself.

There’s a wolf with a halo,

Playing lute with the band.

There’s a cat in the attic

Drinking liquor with the man.

There’s salad-tossing monster,

There’s a blacksmith smelting shoes,

There’s a longsleeve in the gutter

And it’s melting into glue.

There’s a beast spinning silk,

There’s a beast painting brains,

There’s a beast cleaning cupboards,

And he’s taking great pains,

Not to go outside the lines,

Not to tangle up the vines,

Not to spill the candelabra,

Cause he got drunk on the wine.

What a terrible bewilderment.

The beast is glowing white,

What a horrible unhappiness,

This never-ending night.

I said that I can’t help myself,

I can’t get out of bed,

But what I haven’t said

Is that the beasts are in my head.