Rubbish

The eyes in the box
The thoughts in the night
All watchers take warning
We run from the light
To the depths of the drawers
Insufferable, misserable
Calamity strikes
Over glass-calm waters.

Shake a stick
Shake a leg
Get a move on
Run to the hills
Flee to the mountains
And never return
Till the hills are drained dry
And our work here is done.