Morning

I don't think I'll get out of bed today
The world just seems too cold, too harsh
What's the point?
I'll just be back here in 18 hours
There's a billion things I have to do today
I dare you to ask me to list them
I'm still tired...still dreaming my murky dreams
I don't want to get up
There's just going to be the same
Boring people discussing the same
Boring things that are always happening
I prefer my tripped-out dreams
To this bleak grey reality