whiskey drips down into the skyline
and my sober eyes close, refusing to resist
another heavy night
and i wake up drunk on too much sleep
again

this is how it’s been lately, maybe
i’m making up for those three weeks of sleep deprivation
but i think there might be something else keeping me
tied to the bed so late every morning
finally standing up, still tired
and the shadows never disappeared
from beneath my eyes

at any rate, sleep is not doing its work
bringing me deeper down into the sheets
as the morning runs its course
and still i don’t feel ready to face the world

the more i sleep, the less alive i feel
now tell me
is this how it’s supposed to be?

cold morning, warm heart
and burning concrete beneath feet
that are tired of playing along
to the off-beat rhythm of the cars that pass
covering any other sound

and i contemplate the difference
between the ocean and the sea
in an effort to stop thinking

well, there it goes again
no matter the metaphor, i'm always full circle
swinging back into this pattern
looking for noise, looking for colour
looking for a distraction

distracted from myself, i turn
to speak to empty air, just trying
to start a conversation with less meaning
than the days have been holding for me

give me weather talk, give me politics
give me capital punishment, for crying out loud
give me something to debate
that will not affect me

and i contemplate the difference
between me and my feelings
in an effort to prove that they are
without a doubt
separate beings

cold morning, warm heart
beating away from my chest
as fast as it can