The Pretty Lies

i see my bed as my totally

not in command centre hey

when i succumb to my weariness

when i succumb to the day

i remove my outer layers

it’s for my mental health

i’m not taken by the pretty lies

told only to myself

i’d like to believe that there’s definitively

a definite something else

i must now slowly make my way

to a refuge from the everyday

the everyday i shake off every night

every single play every momentary plight

a bolt of lightning a shot from the dark

a simple murmur and a single spark

my sheets become my cape of cope clothes

like a familiar flowing armour

i let them shroud me

and i can surrender so much calmer

as i slowly put on hold

my consciousness for this day

it slips slowly softly from my grasp

in a slow meandering way

i wanna dream aloud one night

i wanna walk on moonbeams

i gotta a pillow full of old

a pillow full of old dreams

i had a special blanket made

just to hold the new screams

i got messed up sheets and linen

a jungle of juggled tangled seams