Static

A drink with desire 

but no direction

is only a stomachache

And the pain keeps me up late

waiting, contemplating 

 

How am I supposed to sleep

When my thoughts are on the run?

I chase them down,

pull out a loaded gun

 

And I lay 

Contemplate 

What is my fate?

 

It’s cold

The winter when you’re getting old

And all of the mistakes you’ve owned

Will you turn it around turn it around when it’s cold 

The winter when you’re getting old

So sit yourself up and go

Will you turn it around?  

 

When will it kick in?

The swallowed inspiration

Pacing, waiting 

The clock keeps saying

Time is running out.

 

And I lay 

Contemplate 

What is my fate?

 

It’s cold

The winter when you’re getting old

And all of the mistakes you’ve owned

Will you turn it around turn it around when it’s cold 

The winter when you’re getting old

So sit yourself up and go

Will you turn it around?   

 

Oh, there’s static in my brain

Questions excessive,

Answers MIA

And I lay, 

Contemplate.

All of stomachaches and worries,

Wide awake with uncertainty 

And I lay, 

Contemplate.

 

When It’s cold

The winter when you’re getting old

With all of the mistakes you’ve owned

Will you turn it around 

Turn it around

When it’s cold 

The winter when you’re getting old

So sit yourself up and go

Will you turn it around?

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