Tomorrow's Gone
The pillow soaked dawning dream.
Ended with the moon's last beam.
The coffee pot is all burned out.
And new sun's pocket's filled with doubt.
There's just no sense in getting up.
Except to pee in my life's cup.
I don't want no one's advice.
Telling me I should think twice.
Another day to lose my way.
Clasp my hands and never pray.
The answers lost in desperate haze.
Tomorrows gone, it never stays.
So take your pious sentiment.
And understand that it's hell bent.
The graveyards full of failed attempts.
Of souls beyond their hearts contempt's.
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