Lost sight again of every seemingly insignificant little thing
In the minutes that it took to adjust to the change in lighting
And left no doubt that most everything doesn’t work itself out
And it’s never good practice to avoid mirrors in well lit rooms
Sleeping with the lights on
Nothing’s hiding in the halls
And everything that you can’t see
Doesn’t simply cease to be
In the absence of light
Lost count again of the exact number of years that it’s been
Since the stars above lost their shine and valid theories existed as to why
It’s often, easily forgotten consequence leaving all the best
Years and decades lost to the feeling in your gut; until you’re not
I’ll keep pretending to sleep
Just to get, just to get, just to get away from the responsibility
I'll say anything most days
Just to get, just to get, just to get, just to get away
Could sleep through a whole year or two
or three or four or more or more or more or more
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