The graveyard shift starts in the morning,
As opposed to what you may think,
When we roam like zombies in the streets,
Working tirelessly until daylight ceases,
But it never does truly,
The sun just moves to the other side of Earth,
And leaves us to lay stagnant in our beds,
Mulling over nothing and everything,
The light never disappears,
Because it lurks in the stars in the night sky,
And that's when the horrors of day,
Walk to the bright side of the world,
And haunt the living dead,
Or does it kill instead?
