my money my time i could have just washed my clothes if i don't stop now i'll go home and get to bed and cover my head with a blanket of dreams that seem too real to beleive i wonder why they're always moonlit and each night i think of moonlight even when there is none none is exactly the thing in my head none is the place i desperately dread when i become none i slip into numbness dumbness and then crescendoing to an anger i cannot fathom and i slip a stick of nicotine into my mouth. there goes my money.
