The Floor
Moving without thinking
I'm alive
Though just surviving
Feels like I'm sinking
The fact that I'm still breathing
The only thought that's keeping
My aching mind
From bending
Past the breaking
Point
And failing
Little pieces falling
To the floor.
I've been spending
Too much money
And too many
hours drinking
In the bar.
Maybe I'm not trying
Too much time spent dreaming
Not enough believing
Maybe I've been lying
To myself.
Yes, I feel like screaming
Yes, I feel like crying
I guess I've just been wishing
It all were easier.
I guess I've just been looking
For an already open door.
I guess I've just been guessing
When my mind should have been changing
My feet should have been dancing
Not searching
For the floor.
Maybe I'm not dying
But neither am I living
I'm tired of complaining
I wish I could be singing
But right now the words are slipping
Off my tongue.
And I'm afraid of what I'm saying
So afraid I'm almost shaking
And it's taking all my strength
Just to struggle on.
I can handle people staring
I'm all right with no one caring
But the voice inside I'm hearing
And the tone in which it's speaking
And the fucking speech it's giving
Are gnawing at my nerves
And insisting that I learn
At every twisting turn
The nature of my being
in a new and awful context.
Why am I remaining
Perpetually perplexed?
There's no benefit in knowing
No point in contemplating
On whose floor
I will be sleeping
Next.
I'm alive
Though just surviving
Feels like I'm sinking
The fact that I'm still breathing
The only thought that's keeping
My aching mind
From bending
Past the breaking
Point
And failing
Little pieces falling
To the floor.
I've been spending
Too much money
And too many
hours drinking
In the bar.
Maybe I'm not trying
Too much time spent dreaming
Not enough believing
Maybe I've been lying
To myself.
Yes, I feel like screaming
Yes, I feel like crying
I guess I've just been wishing
It all were easier.
I guess I've just been looking
For an already open door.
I guess I've just been guessing
When my mind should have been changing
My feet should have been dancing
Not searching
For the floor.
Maybe I'm not dying
But neither am I living
I'm tired of complaining
I wish I could be singing
But right now the words are slipping
Off my tongue.
And I'm afraid of what I'm saying
So afraid I'm almost shaking
And it's taking all my strength
Just to struggle on.
I can handle people staring
I'm all right with no one caring
But the voice inside I'm hearing
And the tone in which it's speaking
And the fucking speech it's giving
Are gnawing at my nerves
And insisting that I learn
At every twisting turn
The nature of my being
in a new and awful context.
Why am I remaining
Perpetually perplexed?
There's no benefit in knowing
No point in contemplating
On whose floor
I will be sleeping
Next.