Asleep

Not my words, the lyrics of The Smiths "Asleep"

Sing me to sleep

Sing me to sleep

I'm tired and I

I want to go to bed

Sing me to sleep

Sing me to sleep

And then leave me alone

Don't try to wake me in the morning

'Cause I will be gone

Don't feel bad for me

I want you to know

Deep in the cell of my heart

I will feel so glad to go

Sing me to sleep

Sing me to sleep

I don't want to wake up

On my own anymore

Sing to me

Sing to me

I don't want to wake up

On my own anymore

Don't feel bad for me

I want you to know

Deep in the cell of my heart

I really want to go

There is another world

There is a better world

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well...

Bye bye

Bye bye

Bye...

A potter without clay

Just when I have reached a point

At which I'm feeling stable

Life sits me down and yet again

I'm on the wobbly table!

I'm ill, there's something wrong with me.

My boss would argue though,

Apparently "it's in my head"

But it's my body and I know!

I've a hernia, that has been confirmed

But that's not why I'm ill.

There's something else I'm sure of it 

And frankly I've had my fill.

In a week where my respect,

For my boss ebbed away,

So in tandem did my mental state

Now I'm the potter with no clay.

I want to be a healthy me

Physically and mentally too

But I can't help the physical

And the mental issues have staged a coup

Pounced upon my weakness'

My pressures and ill health .

Marched back in to take the throne

Stripping me of mental wealth 

The coffers now completely empty,

My resolve stores are all bare.

And there are really few who'll notice this

Even fewer who will really care.

Sometimes I want to close my eyes

And be gone, be whisked away.

To find a peace and health to boot

Without a massive price to pay.

But I'm average, not a special man

Round every corner there's one of me.

Replaceable and dispensable 

Not remarkable, ordinary.

Trying my best to be just me

And hoping it's enough

And failing miserably realising,

That life is really tough.

My skin it seems is way too thin

And my body's laid down arms.

Decided not to defend its self

And my Self esteem self harms!

Tomorrow is another day

I hope it's better than today.

For now ill sleep, recharge the body

Hope the darkness goes away.

And hope tomorrow dawns with hope

Not dread, despair and tears

I'm ready now if god is listening,

I've been waiting nigh on 40 years.

Not my own

The writing of Patrick MacGill from 1916. Found in the pages of autobiography by Morrissey.

Over the top is cold, matey

You lie on the field alone.

Didn't I love you of old, matey

Dearer than the blood of my own.

You were my dearest chum, matey

(Gawd! But your face is white)

But now though reliefs have come, matey,

I'm goin' alone tonight.

I'd sooner the bullet was mine, matey

Goin' out on my own,

Leaving you 'ere on the line, matey

All by yourself, alone.

Chum o' mine and you're dead, matey

And this is the way we part.

The bullet went through your head, matey

But Gawd! It went through my 'eart