This is not a bedtime story. Once upon a time’s are for the storybooks, Child, here in the rainforest, we leave the nursery rhymes behind:
If counting sheep to fall asleep,
then hold your teddy tight to keep,
the wolves from stealing from your flock
Black is the night, and slow is the clock…
You’ve been told that there are no such things as monsters. That when you turn out the lights, that you will be safe.
When mother hugs you tight, and father reads to you at night,
you close your eyes and dream of light.
But the fairy tale that you have heard,
those gentle words that soothe to sleep.
It is a lie. A lie to keep you counting sheep.
Whilst wolves they prowl outside the keep,
but sleepy heads they do no weep,
and weary parents can finally close their eyes,
without the worry of bedtime cries.
But as now you know, these are lies.
A lie to bind and a lie to keep,
You children dreaming of your sheep…