In a pillowed cot, safe and sound,
The sorrowing heart is sorrow bound
Until into adventure led
By things unsaid that speak in bed.

Before the void there is a sign,
Which says that ‘everything is fine’.
So let’s ignore our nameless dread;
That things unsaid will speak in bed.

But something’s missing, something’s wrong;
And something’s been wrong all along.
Across the void a smile is spread;
But things unsaid will speak in bed.

You know every trick in the book,
You know just where not to look,
But lies in desperation bred,
Are things unsaid that speak in bed.

You cannot tell her what’s on your mind.
Because the truth is so unkind.
You kiss goodnight and sleep instead;
But things unsaid will speak in bed.

You run in mud from spectred limbs,
The spectred face just grins and grins,
As you and yours are slowly fed,
To things unsaid that speak in bed.

You’re shot to bits and overwrought
Tormented by a single thought
That turns by night around your head;
That things unsaid will speak in bed.

The light unshadowed shutting down
Does darkling sink into the town
And all that lives will soon be dead;
And things unsaid will speak in bed.

In a me-shaped room, underground,
The sorrowing heart is sorrow bound
Until into the big room led
By things unsaid that speak in bed.