I’m reaching for my jumper,
As I’m feeling rather cold,
Perhaps it’s a sign of things,
That I’m slowly getting old.
I’m reaching for my jumper,
As I’m feeling rather cold,
Perhaps it’s a sign of things,
That I’m slowly getting old.
I often feel like dancing,
Hearing music in my head,
I don’t care who sees me,
I’m too busy dancing instead…
I often feel incompetent,
Not knowing what to do,
It’s like I don’t know where I am,
Or what on earth to do…
I have lots of grand ambitions,
But I’m not sure I’ll get them done,
Better than trying all at once,
I should concentrate on one.
In a world that’s under pressure,
Full of wants and endless greed,
Better to be much more thoughtful,
And just stick to what you need.
I know when I’ve been drinking,
When my mind can’t master thinking…
Hidden away,
From seeing eyes,
Ready to pounce,
And cause surprise
Busy,
Sitting,
Thinking,
Crying
Busy,
Sitting,
Thinking,
Dying.
The news is filled with death and loss,
Watching only causes pain,
I wish I could avoid the hate,
But I fear it’s not that plain.