The morning birds
Wake up
And I'm trying to
Put myself down
I pour a final
Glass of whiskey
And light a last
Cigarette
And pour another
Glass of whiskey
And set it
Next to the bed
A waiting breakfast
I listened to
Thunderstorms
All night
And waited for
Lightning
To hit my window
But when I needed
The rain the most
It never fell
And the ill
Inside
Was not rinsed
So while Strayhorn
Plays quietly
In the other room
I finish
My drink
And smoke
But my mind
Won't shut down
I listen to the
Ice in my glass
Of breakfast crack
And melt
And consider
An early meal
Drinking with the
Chirping
And the sunrise
Listening to Strayhorn
Thinking that it's
Not so bad
Pushing the time away
When I need to be awake
The way this is all going
I don't want to be
Awake