Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

For if all the covers, I again take,

I will soon see Your pearly white gates,

And walk upon Your streets of gold,

Without my husband’s hand to hold.

He’s told me once, he’s told me twice,

But how warm covers feel so nice.

I mean well, Lord, I really do.

I know in his heart, he does too.

But, as we cuddle in so tight,

Each night we have a blanket fight.

Into the covers, at night we’ll torpedo,

Until one of us awakes next to a 6 foot burrito.

We are relentlentless, it’s true.

I hope this isn’t wrong against You.

I don’t believe our blanket battle is a sin,

So please, dear Lord, may the best man win!

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