Old songs and unlicked bags

 Put the bag away,

To lick some other day. 

The fleeting high. 

The short time I have 

That I can do and get 

The every growing list 

Ticked off 

Slowly, 

But at lest one task. 

Sleep won't come easy. 

It might not come at all. 

And work is a growing pressure. 

In mind wondering do they know? 

The ever running nose

As the twinkle in my eyes 

Dims, 

The skip in my step 

Slowly but surely 

Is no longer there. 

Weekends and paydays. 

Nothing else but hurt. 

Friends and family gone, 

So I try and make it work. 

But it isn't the same. 

No one to send these songs to. 

No one shared these memories 

But us. 

And you left me, 

With a weight off heart break and loss. 

Still look for you at Christmas, 

And other family affairs. 

We all lose someone at some point, 

But it never seems fair. 

And now I'm lost myself. 

Weekends and paydays. 

The sun doesn't shine as bright. 

The weekends don't last as long. 

And payday is over quick. 

Playing in the red. 

Just to feel alive. 

But the gas only last so long, 

Before the heating dies. 

The water runs cold. 

The view from my room

Well it's shit. 

So, I just keep looking

Towards weekends and paydays, 

With no one to share 

those memories and old songs with.