DESCRIPTION
The fan beside the sofa hums as crickets match its noise
The dogs outside are bored and dumb, with garbage bags as toys
Inside a glass, a shot of rum,
His only source of joy
This quiet night
This quiet night
The old guitar is neatly stored inside a sturdy case
The spirits seem to have ignored a still, angelic facw
This time, he neither turned nor snored,
No woman to embrace
This quiet night
This quiet night
In four more hours the sun will rise, then day will come again
For now, he dreams of hope, but sighs,
For dreams, he knows, must end
How dreadful is the dark that hides inside a sleeping man
This quiet night
This quiet night