You, like myself, are not upright,
You're awake in bed, like every night.
As the night grows old,
the dawn is young, but your time asleep, is yet none.
When your head hits the pillow, thoughts burst forth,
Burying your mind,
Like snow of the North.
So turn off your phone and go to sleep,
Because the snow is only so deep.
Goodbye.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
You, like myself, are not upright,
You're awake in bed, like every night.
As the night grows old,
the dawn is young, but your time asleep, is yet none.
When your head hits the pillow, thoughts burst forth,
Burying your mind,
Like snow of the North.
So turn off your phone and go to sleep,
Because the snow is only so deep.
Goodbye.