Ye

Pen to paper, what a struggle
Eyes to light and feet to stumble
Nervous electric blood cells crumble
But I want to say something but then I fumble

Keeping wake and weighted attention
That/s the key, the mystery, or all perception
And every clue piles on the questions
Of the senseless lost but paid-for sessions

I/d rather sleep my conscious drift
Floating in starry-cried blissful rift
Stealing a drink, hoping for a winking lift
Of a kick behind to a future missed

Time will slow and time will speed
And so I/m told we/ll want but get the need
But time won/t pause, won/t cut the feed
Instead a dragged out of bed scene, will be indeed
Ye, surely if you plant a seed
Somebody, somewhen, will know, will be

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