I am thinking of you.

In this scruffy little place
As just another nutty case
I hear so much,
I hear it all.
Some screaming in my head,
And some I think, outside.
Sirens of the fire trucks and the overwhelming police car lights.
It's 2 a.m. And I am thinking of you.

'Too little to be bothered about,
Too insignificant in the grand scheme'
I've heard it all too much.
I've become a victim at ease.
'A grain of sand in an ocean of the desert'
'moments are real, your worry: a devil'
Yet, I feel. I feel a little too much.
It's 2 a.m. And I am thinking of you.

They won't accept it.
Neither will they deny; my insanity is not so insane: my words are not that lame.
I am a failure still, I think I will always be.
So I keep my head down,
say yes to what they ask,
I stay the dirty little rebel I've been cursed to be,
I lie to them for them to be at peace.
It's 2 a.m. And I keep thinking.

There's not much my head can do.
Not much, I expect it to be.
At the back of it, there's always you, at the front, there too.
In the centre it feels hollower than ever, but I feel like you're there too.
It's 2 a.m. And I am thinking of you

Fa