just before sunrise

there's something out there made of dark
the lights of shops and houses and cars
lights on the streets and lights of bars
don't repel it they don't even make a mark
while up above the stars seem to skylark
down here we have our battles and our wars
our collaborations and our sudden jars
and not one of us to the power of night will hark
and yet as dawn struggles out of the east
in the dim moments before return of sun
we seem to feel a thing other than dread
still we know that the sun will slay the beast
it's half-day's reign will soon at last be done
and the night worker will now seek his bed