Something I wrote on a boring Sunday afternoon after 4 boring days at home...

Mindless

I'm depressed, sleeping with mind unrest
I'm in a mess, dignified with various test
What's left of me? Is there a me?
What's left of me? Morbid mystery.

Tossing and turning, its really toiling.
Tempting and taunting, the way of living.
What's left of you? Can I see you?
What's left of you? Mindless standstill.

All the while I've been searching and seeking
But I cant seem to stop sinking
All I ever ask for is some silent solace
Is it too hard to achieve or is it too hard to believe?
Is it too hard to reach or its just an impossibility?

The great expectations, accompanied with great confrontations
He wants corrections, they present him with executions.
What's left of them? You give a damn?
What's left of them? They are condemned.

I can feel my pulse getting weaker and my sight growing dimmer
But my mind cant stop going faster
I am spinning into a helter-skelter
I want to slow down, I want to be run down
I want to let everyone down, down to 6 feet underground.

Misfortune untold, conspiracies unfold
I'm ready to go, but where can I go?
What's left for us? Can you feel us?
What's left for us? Ashes and dust.
What's left of us?