the lights are too bright
the air is too hot
and the fan is too loud
but nothing could be loud enough to block out the voices in your head
your eye is twiching with the effort of being "normal"
your hand is shaking without the comfort of a paper lifesaver
your thoughts can't focus without help from alittle red light
the scars start to burn again
and old wounds open up to the mist
but the smoke erases your mind
and pushes for sleep
the plant seems to eat your troubles away
the swaying starts
and words fade
and the insomnia
is gone for another day
you lay down
doesn't matter where
any place you go
you'll be sleeping
in the grass with yellow flowers in your hair
all pratical thought is gone
to enless bliss you are drawn
your in fairy tales and folk lure
whatever you had to do
doesn't seem so important
anymore.....

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