It's a sticky, humid August afternoon
And I am like a rag doll thrown over furniture
Over half of the year has gone by already
And I worry
I wanted to make something of myself this year
There's still time I think
Definitely still some time
I need to do something
But if I'm happy in my dreams
Does that still count?
If I lost someone but found myself
Does that mean I still won?
If I learnt how to hide the memories
Could I erase the history that produced them?
I played a dangerous game
When I turned off the alarm clock after it rang this morning
And rested my eyes
There's still time I think
If I wasn't afraid
What would I do?
The year is not over yet