Old typewriters,
books,
and vinyl record shops
...things which turn me on
With my life and poetry all dried up
I thought I'd write a song
My guitar's a limb
and yet it won't sing
the spiralling serenade in my head.
It's six-thirty
the sun is up
and yet I'm climbing back to bed
Well wouldn't you know
the notes won't show
and yet the words
fall... like rain
Tears and ink
of a life on the blink
yes... I'm probably insane
Yet, my pen it strives
inside my mind
to find the answers still!
So, I close my eyes
to a life of lies
and strum a lullaby
...sleeping pill
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