Television

Waking up when The boys they ran away On a summer's day My God I'm not even done All kindness is gone away They stole my poetry, unexpectedly From the windowsill These words Spilled on the paper Build my way from home These words Spilled on the paper Build my way from home They tell me how poorly I am ' at understanding They tell me to wither and to watch tv I wonder when will they decide To close the curtains of my window life Or will they keep me Silently a waiting These words Spilled on the paper Build a way from home These words Spilled on the paper Build a way from home These words Spilled on the paper Build a way from home These words Spilled on the paper Build a way from home The frost makes a flower The dew makes a star The dead bell The dead bell And somebody is done for