Sting — Come Heavy Sleep

[Verse] Come, heavy sleep, the image of true death And close up these my weary weeping eyes Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath And tears, my heart with sorrows, sigh, swollen cries Come and posses my tired thoughts, worn soul That living dies, that living dies, that living dies 'Til thou on me be stoule Come and posses my tired thoughts, worn soul That living dies, that living dies, that living dies 'Til thou on me be stoule Come shape of rest, and shadow of my end Allied to death, child to his black-faced, his black-faced night Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast Whose waking fancies doe my mind a fright Oh, come, sweet sleep, come, or I die for ever Come here my last comes, come here, my last sleep comes, or come, or come never