It's been a rough few months,
And I'm so exhausted
I can barely keep my head up.
I've been spilling onto floors
Like clumsy bottles from sweaty palms
As useless as my own.

So I stay in bed crying;
I'd rather cry to lifeless heirlooms,
Than assume somebody cares.
But I'm getting tired
In hopes that sleep could hit me sooner
Than a pillow to this dying breath.

And I'm cold...
And I'm getting so cold...