Dull ache turns sharp,
When I stir now awake,
Long creak like bark,
A long rest now I seek,
Lord make my heart,
Turn so firmly to you,
Lord make my heart,
More dependant on you.

The late night weeta-milk swirls unsteady in my lap,
It nibbles at the weetabix islands - ravenous,
A little sustenance for a hungry boy,
A little late for a normal day.