It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

Lectures filled with people in
artificial white coats
with the hope of someday
wearing them truthfully.

It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

The piano plays softly
fabricating a calm, peaceful atmosphere
of Christmas
in the cancer center.

It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.

She sits a lone on a big, comfy couch
in a tall, cold room
trying to make sense
of it all.