by Andrew Matthews
Awake all night.
No sleep do I have to fight.
Writing this in the early morning
Just finished another coffee
Just put out a roll up, thinking...
Later I'll have a few pints to sup.
Listening to my music, but
I don't know the words I'm just listening.
Yawning, yawning again, but
everytime I try to sleep
It's always the fuckin' same
Too much coffee, I think I'll decide to blame.
It's 5: 31 now
And I'm thinking.
That a ball point pen
Is such a luxury when compared to someone like
Lord Byron or Robert Burns' time.
I mean, I don't think that I could have used
A feather to try and make my words rhyme.