Pete's Songs in a Bottle
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Wide Awake
struggle home from worthless work
with brain half-dead and half berserk
flaked out like a lump of lead
I adjust and fluff the pillow and go straight to bed
peace and quiet in the room
and no street noises going boom
not a peep and not a sound
but the images just go on floating round and round
seconds turn to minutes and I count each bunch of five
determinedly each one keeps me aware that I'm alive
and then I'm interrupted by a sneeze or by a cough
now all I want is slumber, how I wish that I could drop off
think of England, blank the mind
or try deep breaths, but still I find
while I lie here counting sheep
I'm successful as a shepherd, but I just can't sleep . . .
maybe I'll be better if my head is at a tilt
maybe I'll start yawning if I crumple up the quilt
find a new position, maybe one I haven't tried
my right arm's going numb, better turn onto my left side
all I want's a good night's kip
a coma into which I slip
let me sleep, for goodness sake !
but insomnia won't let me and I'm wide awake . . .
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