First world problem
To turn a page
A new leaf
Assorted flavours of anxiety
Static thought
Though so clear
A pedestrian expected banality
Working hard at a whopping nil
Isolate to write a fill
A gruesome branch
A scab hardened over
They're standing still
While you're toppled over
A single stitch
But you still whine
You're getting stiff
You're wasting time
Bittersweet you close your eyes
You muster up a lie
Can't stand the ground of a power
Not a duke
Makeshift chorus repeat anew
