Sometimes we need a six pack just to sleep, or to elude the sheep-less drifts that keep us awake at night. Does this eventually dissipate? The incessant sense of feeling nothing. When’s our chance at feeling optimistic ever come? When it’s the derisive ways we see ourselves that’s depressing. It’s a blasé, short changed feeling of defeated that regenerates through our selves, and substantiates into every choice we’re (thinking of) making. Culminating in restless times for fretful minds. I understand that maybe there’s a schtick in a success-less maturity we’ve grappled with that does eventually dissipate. I just have the sense I’m doing nothing. So when’s my chance at being optimistic ever come? I’m sick of feeling tired.
credits
from LP,
released December 23, 2011
Written by Kevin Nunn
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