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I'm tired of waiting
in this hollow state,
pushing aside things
I want to say.
It's taking my all
to get out of bed.
I'm pouring a drink
to feel myself dead.
The page is blank my pen is down;
I'm working it out.
It's been a while
I've had something to say
but my page is blank, my pen is down,
I'm working it out.
There's this feeling inside
that's coming out,
my page is blank my pen is down,
I'm working it out.
Put the pen to the paper,
but it wouldn't move.
My page is blank, my pen is down,
and I'm working it out.
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