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Two-thirty a.m. And I’m staring blankly at my monitor Hoping that something will change, something new will happen Instead of this mindless procession of thoughts in my head I am going crazy Of nights with these faded star wars bedsheets And an old ratted Peanuts comforter, linus and lucy wrapped around me It should be you And so I sit, topless In men’s boxers Singing bonnie raitt songs softly hoping I don’t wake my parents Trying to gather the strength to crawl into my bed And spend another night Dreaming of you And my greasy fingers linger on the keys |
