Being Low.

My eyes feel heavy yet again and they are constantly tearing. I seriously hate this feeling. I used to come in to work still being able to grin, even though I disliked my job a whole lot or if I was having a bad day – my lips was still beaming from ear to ear for no reason. Well there actually was a motive behind that smile, but it was just out of habit. People would be asking me what I was thinking that made me so happy. Now people look at me and ask me what’s wrong? And I just nod and say, "nothing". But really, under my breath I whispered, everything.

Everyday Is Like Sunday

Trudging slowly over wet sand

Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen

This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down

Armageddon, come

Armageddon, come, Armageddon, come

Everyday is like Sunday

Everyday is silent and gray

Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard

How I dearly wish I was not here

In the seaside town that they forgot to bomb

Come, come, come, nuclear bomb

Everyday is like Sunday

Everyday is silent and grey

Trudging back over pebbles and sand

And a strange dust lands on your hands

And on your face, on your face

On your face, on your face

Everyday is like Sunday

Win yourself a cheap tray

Share some greased tea with me

Everyday is silent and gray