it's getting late,

The clock has struck three thirty
I’ve officially been up for an hour
The pillow looks enticing
And my mouth is parched and sour
But I can’t go back to sleep
In thoughts, like hushed mice, creep

Three miles, straight ahead,
You’re sleeping snug and tight
Relishing in dreams in which
Your fantasies take flight
You’re warm and safe in bed
And I wish I were you instead

Three hundred miles north,
You’re probably tucked in nice
Thoughts flicker through your mind
Like a candle flame on ice
And they’re probably in your head
And I wish I were them instead

Three thousand miles west,
You’re perpetually awake
You’re thoughts buzzing so loudly
That your skull begins to ache
And you stare at the empty half of your bed
And god, I wish I were there instead.