I woke up in a glade of gray
Littered fingers and threads of grass flay
Moistened hair, a dampened glare
An enameled heart that stings
Scattered birds have yet to sing
Will it ever matter?
The soft brown dirt pushes down as I rise up
The light rain has filled my old tin cup
Ridges rusted and my eyes are dusted
My wrist-watch is broken and can't be trusted
Fire flies in a jar, they won't get far
lighted my night as my cigarettes tarred
my weakened lungs but elevated my strung-
out manners
It's getting lighter as my skin gets tighter
The clouds shift as the sun gets brighter
I miss the moon, but I know that soon
the day will pass but I won't see noon
How blue
Blue