Won’t Worry My Away
I’m going to make a concrete box
And bury everything I own
In a deep, deep hole
Where it’s wet,
Where the light isn’t shown
And after everything
In goes me
Outside will be locks
I’m fairly sure it will be heavy
And I think I will be happy.
I’m sorry to be morbid or anything, but I’ve got this picture in my head.
The stereo on nextdoor was blaring pretty loudly, so I guess the person didn’t really expect me standing on the chair. Funny. Still heard the door move, and the couple of footsteps after, and I caught a glimpse of the green t-shirt and a socked foot. I guess if it had just been me on the chair it would’ve been fine - I mean I could’ve laughed it off, maybe done it a few months later. Should’ve closed the blinds, the room just felt nice with them open. Besides, I had to see.
Now I’m among a sobbing mother, these colourful, smiling, loveheart things in my hand. I don’t really belong to one, happy to take the others. This is getting all too boring at times, perfectly painful at others.
I suppose if I take the pills it might be the same thing, I’ll see you on the other side.