The Ambassador of Sleep (a song) The Ambassador of Sleep comes to take me in his velvet arms, weigh me in his sleeves and he knows he will not wake me- he knows just what I need, as his delicate tube fills from my arm The Ambassador is watching the way the life in me moves, injecting in so gently my dependance on him and he likes me in the early hours- with his strangeness by my bed, to take my lily arm, seduce the darkness from my vein The Ambassador of Sleep The Purveyor of Dreams tempting out the fever still hostage in me Sandra Lockwood Skeletons At night all over this town couples are huddled in empty rooms windows like blocks of black ice, desires hidden in cardboard boxes broken bones for coathangers. Every once in a while one can hear muted groans of love Sentimental sighs, memories mumbled into dresser drawers. And for some the stale breath of solitude spreads through walls paper thin curtains sheer as onion skin years spent in mortal chains trying to accept the inevitable truth of generic love. Bradley Paul Sketch for Lynda You appear between leaves in the forest swept aside to reveal the depth of my poverty. Together we watch the sea recoil its fine points form stars that slip through my hands and land on sunburnt lids. As we walk we talk of nothing across the tracks away from the train-yard waves crash you smash my heart against the rocks. Bradley Paul WVHdOL 44039 The Ambassador of Sleep (a song) The Ambassador of Sleep comes to take me in his velvet arms, weigh me in his sleeves and he knows he will not wake me- he knows just what I need, as his delicate tube {fills from my arm The Ambassador is watching the way the life in me moves, injecting in so gently my dependance on him and he likes me in the early hours- with his strangeness by my bed, to take my lily arm, seduce the darkness from my vein The Ambassador of Sleep The Purveyor of Dreams tempting out the fever still hostage in me Sandra Lockwood Skeletons At night all over this town couples are huddled in empty rooms windows like blocks of black ice, desires hidden in cardboard boxes broken bones for coathangers. Every once in a while one can hear muted groans of love sentimental sighs, memories mumbled into dresser drawers. And for some the stale breath of solitude spreads through walls paper thin curtains sheer as onion skin Years spent in mortal chains ‘trying to accept the inevitable truth of generic love. Bradley Paul ‘Sketch for Lynda You appear between leaves in the forest swept aside to reveal the depth of my poverty. Together we watch the sea recoil its fine points form stars that slip through my hands and land on sunburnt lids. As we walk we talk of nothing across the tracks away from the train-yard waves crash you smash my heart ‘against the rocks. Bradley Paul N