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The sky is gray,
this coffee’s bitter,
I don’t think I’m dreaming.
the air is cold,
my mind is painful,
and I don’t think I’m dreaming.
Nothing makes sense,
I’m saying nothing,
and no one else is speaking.
You stare back at me,
from flourescent lights again,
I close both my eyes,
and picture when it’s bright again,
The sky is gray,
this coffee’s bitter,
and I dont think I’m dreaming.
I wish sometimes,
that I could sleep away the time,
When all my bad dreams,
Are awake and always seem,
to have too much meaning.
I’m asleep I think,
but I don’t think I’m dreaming.

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