Moon of Bone (Eyes of Stone)

I am still kinda afraid of the dark. 

it's getting late

i can't turn the page anymore

my book has fallen to the floor

and in the space between my hand and the bedside table lamp

i tell myself fairy tales to keep from dreaming too soon

don't turn the lights out

i'm still afraid of the dark

i see the strangest things

in the corners of my eyes

don't turn the lights out

help me to drown out my dreams

they have been dreaming me 

for the longest time

let's stay awake tonight

through the long slow flow of witching hours

while the moon hangs low and heavy in the sky

i am impatient, i am wakeful, i am drowsy

and only when dawn begins will i finally close my eyes

don't turn the lights out

i'm still afraid of the dark

i see the strangest things

in the corners of my eyes

don't turn the lights out

help me to drown out my dreams

they have been dreaming me 

for the longest time

the moon in the sky is the colour of bone

they eyes in my head are heavy like stones

don't turn the lights out

i'm still afraid of the dark

i see the strangest things

in the corners of my eyes

don't turn the lights out

help me to drown out my dreams

they have been dreaming me 

for the longest time

When I was about three, something inside me woke up and realized that one day it wouldn't exist anymore. I ran to tell my parents this revelation - I remember that they were watching a movie with an Irish character who kept referring to his father as "Da," which mystified me. I feel that this level of detail is necessary to show that what follows is a real memory  of a real chain of events, and not some fable I came up with to make myself sound interesting. These are actual things that happened to a little child that I actually was. I explained to my parents (three-years-oldishly and with a lot of crying) that I was going to die someday and that I was terrified by the prospect of ceasing to exist. My parents, true to form, said "Well yes, but that won't be for a very, very, very long time. And you won't know about it when you're dead." ... As you can well imagine, this was not particularly soothing to my three-year-old self and I continued to cry, afraid to go back to sleep. In the 27 years that have followed, the situation has not substantially improved.

This song is dedicated to my difficult nights. For as long as I can remember I have struggled with nightmares, fear of the dark and a reluctance to spend any amount of time quietly looking at the inside of my own thoughts while trying to get to sleep. I have spent years sleeping only with the lights on, listening to audiobooks (Mr. Bach Comes to Call was a favourite), and reading until my eyes closed on their own and sleep overtook me. Since I bought an iPhone in 2015, I can now watch episodes of The Joy of Painting at bedtime, which are incredibly soporific. 

Many people have told me that this is their favourite among my songs. Good, I'm glad!

© 2016 by Zoë Robertson. Photography by Robert Zbikowski and Vincent Fugere. Proudly created with Wix.com

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