I hear them scratching in the middle of the night I hear the voices in the walls There's a bird trapped in the chimney I hear him when the lights turn low I run the water and it splutters in the bowl Irises and yellow flag and crimson daisies grow Beyond the wall there lies a dusty bed of stones I see them when the lights turn low I am the sole recipient of autumn's vivid dream I see things where there are not things I see things you've never seen I see rats around the edges Of the crevices and holes I am the final great believer In the twisting of the human soul I taste the water but i do not swallow down Angels and promises have run me out of town There's a bird trapped in the chimney I hear him when the lights turn low I am the sole beneficiary of winter's broken scheme There are stones around my ankles They are tied to me with string Sixteen hives of killer wasps And seventeen of bees I hear them when the lights turn low