Sun beating on my face,
Looking down at my car, hoping to leave,
But that won't be the case,
My fate is entwined with when others wake,
Is this just wasted time?
I feel my cells pulled down by gravity,
My grave get's closer despite how I climb,
So why don't I just get my coat and leave?
A little thing called love,
That without which it is not worth living,
It's what we're all made of,
So here I sit,
Slowly wasting away,
An existence that may's well not exist,
Maybe an hour before anyone wakes.
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