re: stacks

There's a black crow sitting across from me
His wiry legs are crossed
He is dangling my keys, he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?

On your back with your racks as the stacks are your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you're unstacking your load

This is not the sound of a new man or a crispy realisation
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me

I've been clinging to this (the song, not the keychain!) for comfort on nights when it's difficult to face the darkness. I've tried to explain to people why I don't like sleep, in vain — the wasted hours; being in a state of nothingness, or at least the perception of it; and most terrifyingly, the loneliness. Is there any time when we are lonelier than that moment just before we fall asleep? (Although, sadly, 'we live as we dream — alone'.)