I'd put the clock on a tourniquet,
But it would tick all the same.
I'm not the one to blame for this.
I'm all worn out,
Out-blamed and pissed.
Spoiled milk spills on the page.
It will never taste better
Just bitter with rage,
Tired rage.
Helpless swings at a ghost
You're out of line, soldier.
Get back to your post.
I'd want to believe
That the days get brighter
But the light comes in sleep
And the nights meet you too early
So your breath of relief
Comes out with the sun,
And they day's just begun
Just when you're giving up.
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