Paper on the table
Pen in my hand
Dreaming up a way
To escape this ugly land
Or maybe not 
I really don’t know
Maybe I don’t care
As I drink my cup of Jo
I’ll stay a little while
Then maybe I’ll move on
I might just want to sit
And wait for early dawn
Thoughts running wild
Like the blood in my veins
Some about my loses
Some about my gains
Some predict the future
Some reminisce the past
Some about my life
Ending in a blast
The thought always creeping
Back into my head
That I’d be better off
If only I was dead
I’m glad I have no guns
I’m glad my will is small
Because if I had either
I’d waste no time at all