My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right I’m awake until I break, day and night. With the voices and the choices that I wish to expel and the deepest of the secrets I could never tell.
My brain; a stain inside my prisoned skull, I sharpen it, spear from stick, but it’s too dull. With the facts free, how they trap me, but I never tried to run away, my feet sore, a path I’ve taken before, but could never stay.
The ivory teeth chomping away at my sleep, in vain I try to get high, but I’m just too deep. With the last of my past that I try to forget, so I reprise a sunrise but it becomes a sunset.
My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right what will it take for me to break and appreciate the light? I rejoice in the choices that I can’t repel, and the cheapest of the secrets of how I fell.