The night is too old
Still I can't put myself to sleep.
The day is about to spring
But I'm dreaming
With eyes that are not close.
I hear the crickets sing,
I'll be missing the early bird's ring.
I watch Tuesday leave
And wait what Wednesday bring.
Dark as raven, the sky is dead
But with a few galactic kiss
The morning day shall live.
Stars are gone
The moon takes a gentle bow
As the horizon burns.
The sun will rise,
And daises dance
To the chant of early bees.
But I wont be there
To witness it all.
Because at six,
I'll be under the old crimson sheets,
Making love with my bed.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
The night is too old
Still I can't put myself to sleep.
The day is about to spring
But I'm dreaming
With eyes that are not close.
I hear the crickets sing,
I'll be missing the early bird's ring.
I watch Tuesday leave
And wait what Wednesday bring.
Dark as raven, the sky is dead
But with a few galactic kiss
The morning day shall live.
Stars are gone
The moon takes a gentle bow
As the horizon burns.
The sun will rise,
And daises dance
To the chant of early bees.
But I wont be there
To witness it all.
Because at six,
I'll be under the old crimson sheets,
Making love with my bed.
