All I do is not a lot
And those not-a-lots
Tend to add up,
So I guess that
All I do really is something
In the grand scope of things.
And if life is but a dream,
And I spend my days dreaming,
Then am I really wasting them?
Or am I living?
And when will I wake up?
My life is my nightmare
And only when I'm awake
Am I free to do everything.
It's when I sleep that I'm confronted
By all of the things
I'd rather not face.
Tell me what's real.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
All I do is not a lot
And those not-a-lots
Tend to add up,
So I guess that
All I do really is something
In the grand scope of things.
And if life is but a dream,
And I spend my days dreaming,
Then am I really wasting them?
Or am I living?
And when will I wake up?
My life is my nightmare
And only when I'm awake
Am I free to do everything.
It's when I sleep that I'm confronted
By all of the things
I'd rather not face.
Tell me what's real.
Request permission to use this poem