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Last night I woke, |
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Nothing familiar, only feelings that I was alone |
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In a room in the dark. |
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What if the dreamer dies? |
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Tomorrow's sky will abandon every piercing light |
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And hang like smoke in a closed room. |
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The tube light in the street flickers away. |
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I pocket every flash and place it somewhere safe. |
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As I drown in my sleep, |
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The hotel room echoes of the lonely. |
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As I wane under stiff cold sheets, |
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The party thrives from the copious amounts of binging eyes, |
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Unlike mine that are trying to find you. |
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It's 4am and the dirty room's stained, |
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The door closes as the creek of the hinge |
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Spills me out of my bed-ache, |
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So I go wandering. |
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Downstairs smells of damp cigarettes, |
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And all that's dispensed is a thought from the vending machine |
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Telling me I need to bar the obscene from the remainder of my dream. |
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The drunks that slur the street trickle away, |
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As they pocket one-night stands in a dim-lit place. |
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As I drown in my sleep, |
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The hotel room echoes of the lonely. |
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As I wane under stiff cold sheets, |
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The party dies and the copious amounts of sadness hide in my eyes |
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Until the alarm wakes me... |
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Wakes me. |
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But I can never sleep. |
