Stagnant
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 |