Watching time wander hourlessly
In a world of circumstantial everything
I pace myself accordingly
Partaking of another day
While a tune floats between my ears

The nights get cold
And I feel the endlessness
Of working next to insomnia
No rest for the wicked
Only a haunted hue of green instead

My imagination runs without a winded breath
I try to keep up
Wondering if I'm destined to fade
And still the tume I hum
Constant lullaby knocking on my door

I try to be the good girl
Who says the right thing
Who looks the right way
Who never screws up
Who wants to be perfect

I don't even like that song

© 2004 LM Hutchings