I'm sick of death being an option
and my head swimming
around
and my tears
clogging my nose
and my head
telling me things that aren't true
I'm tired.

These images will haunt me
the ones of you
the ones not of you
these images will haunt me
they're already haunting me
they're already a memory of when you loved me
everything now is a memory of when you loved me
while you hold me
while you smile into my hair
while it's happening
it's a memory
while it's happening
every moment of you is a memory

One of those nights

This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get a little lost
This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get into bed feeling as though I just left it
This could easily be one of those nights
where my good mood died with the day
and the night is restless without end
This could easily become one of those nights
where productivity was a memory
and the head I wear to get things done with is put aside
while I spend five hours downloading games I won't play
This could very easily be one of those night
where I wake up wondering what the hell happened
in my own bed
in my own home
after a sober night in
wondering what the fuck happened
It could easily be one of those.

I'm getting very concerned
that I'm beginning to take things a little too seriously
and when I catch myself doing it
I'm worried the wind will change
and the person I once knew
who was a little dotty
and who wondered what it was like to be irritated
might not be around any more
and I'd be stuck
with this stranger
who scowls a little at bus drivers
and who's a little unpleasant
if a packet of sugar is missing a grain

It's all a little silly you know
Oh you didn't?
That's a shame.