How dull the colors of the dreams
how small this list of things become
what happened who can take the blame
who gets to feel morose and dumb
I should be kicking should be pushing
trying to expand the sack
that's cinched me up and closed me in
and presses me from front to back
how small the little loops we plod
how dull the tarnished orb
how bland this porridge pabulum
this slouching fog that will absorb
what little color's left remaining
muffle and defeat my call
ensnare my feet and leave me lost
in this dull castle's keep so small
what
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