She sleeps in clutching pillows,
She sleeps in clutching pillows, they’re charged to fight
She sleeps in clutching pillows, holding her down laid on her right,
Holding, holding her own, holding her down and there they lay.
There they lay, the woman, the pillows and the end of the day.
She sleeps in clutching pillows there in the night
With clutching pillows there in the night, where she is alone
And laying in the arms of unbearable loneliness, chilled to the bone,
Unbearable loneliness and she is clutching pillows, locked in her own onlyness
Locked in her oneness, her simple, unadulterated loneliness.
She straddles one, her legs like an Olympic Wrestler
She straddles and clutching, she sleeps with a tight legged hold
She straddles and clutches a pillow, her sleep bought and sold
She wraps herself in the bed clothes, in the creases and the fold
And there she lays…
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