Little Hammer

Pounding away in the back of my head

Until I've almost lost myself

And those red and black patterns

In which nothing happens

Have made me sleep

A beautiful voice is a nail

Being pulled out of wood

Carry on little hammer

You were always my favourite toy

When the world's dead to me

In my soft fortunate cushion of pins

Is a soldier

Slicing thin through thin

The unfortunate truth sneaking in