I don't think I can write a word today
It's all a little pointless isn't it?
Go back to bed, let two times twelve hours stray,
All effort is a slippery sided pit.
So close my eyes and dream a dream of you
And what it took for you to be curtailed,
Did no one ever question what you do,
I know they said your greatest work had failed?
I don't suppose you had statistics then
Just places in the hearts or tickets sold
The sad, sad sorry ways of little men
To measure everything in terms of gold.
It's like a joke but if we want to eat,
Somehow or other we must make ends meet
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