I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On | Stan Morrison
I sleep in a bed with two pillows
sadly such irony doesn’t escape me
I’m the victim master of this misery
my desk chair has become my throne
is this truly where I live
this address is so strange
it must that I live here
all my keys seem to fit
how much longer am I to live
I need to know how to pace it
with no access to answers
must I keep going doing
all my joys are mixed with memories
getting me through this blur of days
I can no longer stand this wallowing
my self pity permit’s long expired
don’t ask me for new insights
don’t spring any of your own
you won’t uncover how I’m coping
crying laughing in the summer rain
