I hate night-time.
It’s cold and dark and there’s so much ******* light pollution
You can’t even see the stars.
There’s no hope.
You can’t even see tomorrow because by midnight,
Tomorrow has already come
Yet it has hardly been.
I love night-time.
We sing, we dance, we stay up until that old cliché:
The morning light arrives and it’s good,
Another night wasted.
- Wasting time isn’t necessarily time wasted. -
Then the day carries on itself and all I can think is,
What will happen tomorrow night?
It might be cold and dark and hopeless
But it’s fun
And who cares about sleep?
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
I hate night-time.
It’s cold and dark and there’s so much ******* light pollution
You can’t even see the stars.
There’s no hope.
You can’t even see tomorrow because by midnight,
Tomorrow has already come
Yet it has hardly been.
I love night-time.
We sing, we dance, we stay up until that old cliché:
The morning light arrives and it’s good,
Another night wasted.
- Wasting time isn’t necessarily time wasted. -
Then the day carries on itself and all I can think is,
What will happen tomorrow night?
It might be cold and dark and hopeless
But it’s fun
And who cares about sleep?
Request permission to use this poem