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Do you know when you wake up in the morning,
And you have no risen to stand?
And the time you are wasting,
Moves faster than the Arabs sand.
And the days they are leaving,
And are moving so fast,
But you are hopeless to stop them,
Weakly watch as they ride past.
And the sun in the sky,
Feels more like its taunting you,
And the coldness of night,
Feels as if its haunting you,
Because someone wouldn’t say hello,
So you did,
And then someone says goodbye,
So then you did too.
And now I cant find my words,
And they taunt me all through the day,
I have so many thoughts of you,
But none of which I know how to say.
Life’s busy road,
Is what I’m traveling on,
I am looking at tomorrow,
And waiting for the past to be gone.
But I know that it will always haunt me,
And screw up my minds and my words,
I know it will always be there,
And I know that you still haven’t heard.
Haven’t heard of the things that bother me,
Although I think you should,
And still I am lost and wandering,
Trying to fill my own cup.
What happens if writing stops helping me?
Because its all I know how to do,
What happens if you don’t end up hearing me,
Because I know that I’ll always hear you.
Do you know when you wake up in the morning,
And you have no risen to stand?
And the time you are wasting,
Moves faster than the Arabs sand.
And the days they are leaving,
And are moving so fast,
But you are hopeless to stop them,
Weakly watch as they ride past.
And the sun in the sky,
Feels more like its taunting you,
And the coldness of night,
Feels as if its haunting you,
Because someone wouldn’t say hello,
So you did,
And then someone says goodbye,
So then you did too.
And now I cant find my words,
And they taunt me all through the day,
I have so many thoughts of you,
But none of which I know how to say.
Life’s busy road,
Is what I’m traveling on,
I am looking at tomorrow,
And waiting for the past to be gone.
But I know that it will always haunt me,
And screw up my minds and my words,
I know it will always be there,
And I know that you still haven’t heard.
Haven’t heard of the things that bother me,
Although I think you should,
And still I am lost and wandering,
Trying to fill my own cup.
What happens if writing stops helping me?
Because its all I know how to do,
What happens if you don’t end up hearing me,
Because I know that I’ll always hear you.