Wednesday, 11 September 2013

The Head and the Straitjacket

It's only September
and I've never felt so cold before
a head of fire
on a dim, quiet morning

My eyes still study
but my head is lost
It's a fear of standing
while my hope of laying is weak

I've never felt so weak
Sleep was my closest escape

I've never felt so weak before
I've never felt so weak before

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