Brown tweed couch in the TV’s glare
Lying on my back
It’s itchy under there.
Falling asleep late at night
Waking to find a tweedish patternon my face - what a horrible sight.
Coarsey, horsey hair is all I can taste
TV blasting, fans are turning
And the lamp was left on,
As I laid there on my backI wrote this little song. I was watching my life go by
Wondering why you don’t feel the way I do.
Brown tweed couch
Cat is at my feet
He claws at my toes
He wants something to eat.
As I lay here on my back
Watching my dreams go by
Wondering why you don’t feel the same way too.
My life is turning
Please help me to go on
And stop this yearning. Stacy Young 1995