Where do the nights of sleep go to when they do not come to me?

And there's a memory in your heart
And it's a terrifying thing
It remembers all the people
All the people you've betrayed
And the people that you failed
Because you were not brave enough
Or you panicked and you ran
Or you were not brave enough

And there's a poem about a creature in the desert
Who's squatting naked on the ground and eating something
And the poet adventurer who finds him
Asks him what it is that he's eating
And what it tastes like
And the creature looks at him and says:
'it's my heart, and it tastes bitter,
But i like it,
Because it tastes bitter
And because it's my heart'

And it's funny how it breaks
And it's funny how it breaks
And i am never brave enough
And it's funny how it breaks

And it's funny how your heart can be breaking
For a hundred thousand years or more
Without ever actually breaking at all
Or it can break in a moment so small
That they don't even have a name for it yet
Sometimes they call it a heartbeat, but it's much quicker than that
Sometimes they call it a heartbeat, but it's much quicker than that

And it's funny how it breaks
And it's funny how it breaks
And i am never brave enough
And it's funny how it breaks

Where do the nights of sleep go to
When they do not come to me?