Now I'm hunched over a typewriter
I guess you call that paintin' in a cave
And there's a word I can't remember
and a feeling I cannot escape
And now my ashtray's overflowing
I'm still staring at a clean white page
Oh and morning's at my window
she is sending me to bed again
So I will find my fears and face them
or I will cower like a dog
I will kick and scream or kneel and plead
I will fight like hell to hide that I am giving up
1 comment:
very nice, Dash.
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