There's a truth not many know,

About the world while you're asleep:

That the wind slips through your window,

To steal the secrets that you keep,

And if you don't believe me,

Then you're welcome to your doubt,

But have you never stopped to wonder,

What's it whispering about?

What else in the world,

Could make the treetops bend and sway,

But the weight of all the words,

That no one ever dared to say?

And since its while, you're sleeping,

Secrets are easier to take,

Its no surprise those with the deepest,

Are the ones kept wide awake.