You say I should be wide awake;
But I tell you that I’m half asleep.
You never seem to realize
What it is I really mean.
My mind is in a daze;
My days pass in a haze.
My eyelids are a veil between
What’s behind them, and this place.
You insist that anything
More than eight hours is a luxury.
Who am I to disagree?
But it doesn’t mean a thing to me.
Days and nights are just the same;
In the gray they went and there they came.
And when the gray is all I’ve ever seen,
What’s that mean for my weary brain?
You tell me to get over it;
To go and drink some coffee.
But I feel as if I’m dreaming it…
And my eyelids grow so very heavy.