The breeze is busy... flowing past me to cool down my room-mate who is wiping her sweat in her sleep, in this hot summer night...
The crickets are occupied... Chit-chatting with the lone cow I see outside my window...
The ugly black bug is the busiest... buzzing around the night lamp and trying to conquer the artificial light...
The drunk man is walking on four legs, alcohol talking rubbish...
My stockings, hung on the chair, are romancing around with the air from the ceiling fan... They are performing a tiny bit of ballet around me...
Dogs are barking as they fight to impress the snobby bitch. She is one and they are five. Busy woman she is, looks like.
As the clock strikes 2.05 AM, so many things are doing so many things around me.
And me, am sinking in the feeling of having no purpose. Of having nothing to do.
The crickets are occupied... Chit-chatting with the lone cow I see outside my window...
The ugly black bug is the busiest... buzzing around the night lamp and trying to conquer the artificial light...
The drunk man is walking on four legs, alcohol talking rubbish...
My stockings, hung on the chair, are romancing around with the air from the ceiling fan... They are performing a tiny bit of ballet around me...
Dogs are barking as they fight to impress the snobby bitch. She is one and they are five. Busy woman she is, looks like.
As the clock strikes 2.05 AM, so many things are doing so many things around me.
And me, am sinking in the feeling of having no purpose. Of having nothing to do.
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