Very Bad Archive
So Tired. [I'm so insanely proud of these lyrics!] This is by Bess Fry. She sucks at writing.
George Ann Clearview
It's so weird to think of how I tired I am
As I walk these eight long miles in my flip flops
And think of how your sun never goes down.
As these yellow lines lie in the middle of the road
I trudge towards your house
Hoping you won't lock your window on me since you never let me use the front door.
The moon's too warm and the air is too compressed
And for a minute I think I'm drowning in your arms
But then I realize I'm not
Because I'm alone.
I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I cut through parking lots
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I almost drown swimming across the lake in ripped jeans
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.
By the time I get home
The house has drown in a sea of silence.
Every sound I make echoes through my thick but hallow bones.
The stairs cry as I step on their dust mites.
A microscopic holocaust scene right before my eyes.
But I keep my head up and my ears can't hear their cries.
My door breaks at the slightest touch
And for a second I nearly faint
Because the adrenaline pumps so loud and so hard that I swear I'll get caught
But I don't.
I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I cut through the kitchen
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I almost drown in the tears inside my head
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.
Did God drop the world on my brain?
I wonder as I make sure my windows are unlocked.
I crawl into bed and drag the covers over my face.
And then for a second I wish I was drowning
But I'm not
Because I'm obviously alive and breathing.
My empty speakers scream with nothing.
Something in the house creaks but goes ignored.
Everyone is in dreamland.
Everyone except for me.
I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I switch on my electric blanket
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I count the tiles on my ceiling
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.
George Ann Clearview has published since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of George Ann's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of George Ann's latest works: