Tired

Well, you make me sick.
You wont let me sleep, so i'm fucking tired.
I can't think anymore, my body is breaking down.
When i'm walking, i have to concentrate so much, that i won't fall down.
I feel like on drugs. I feel like a junkey, like on crack or cocaine.
But am not. Am not even drunk, ok, i drink but just at weekend.
I know, i'm on a drug.. You're my drug. I can't stop it.

I can't sleep without that you're spooking around in my dreams,
to many times, to many bad things, but i wish they would be real..



A perfect evening would be, that we're laying on the sofa, you've made a coffee for me.
We spend our time by waching a movie, and i can cuddle me on your shoulder.
That would be perfect.


xoxo'