"That's Life."
tick tock the clock ticks, my puppet's laying upon my bed, unrested, my soul burden with wonders of ancient tales that's never answered or proven, my eyes glaring at the dark ceiling, wondering. my room i lay on my bed's pitchy dark, the window's curtain-closed, it's night, the night's when the man's rule u must sleep. i then close my eyes, trying to sleep, but my soul's unrested.
i see white dots appearing in my closed eyes, they're dancing, they're flying around, dancing, some of 'em grow bigger, towarding me, then disappearing, leaving behind their trace, some explodes like a firework that leave behind their trace and disappear slowly, they're dancing in a harmony song.
what are they? i wonder, are they the energy of my soul, my spirit? the electric dots the blind eye see? or are they just simply the bacteria that roam in my eyes?...
the clock tick tock the echo song...
the white dancing dots in my closed eyes then begin to calm down, reducing the white dots number as i fall asleep... leaving my puppet vulnerable as my soul enter into a dream web...
all is calm, as usual...
then my dark room my puppet rests upon my bed begins to get darker...
blackness then begins to crawl on my ceiling, my walls, and my floor towarding my sleeping vulnerable puppet... it then attaches to my puppet, sucking my energy, darking the dark room darker... while my soul soar in the dream web...
a mouse then crawls out of his hole in my room, sniffing around, scratching his ear, then crawling around, looking for food, squeaking, then crawling to a different hole to get in to other room while the blackness sucks my puppet, growing the blackness bigger in my dark room, darking...
all is normal, as usual... ticking the clock's song...
"b-riiing!" my clock screams, i then wakes up, trying to smash the clock to shut up, then all of suddenly my room's quiet in a bright morning, i then sit up, rubbing my tired eyes, and mumbles "man, why must i be tired every time i wake up?", i then stand up, walking to my bathroom to hit a shower...
then the shower's heard, steaming the water's drips...
all is normal, as usual...
"the cactus in the desert has a reason for being there..."
