I'm wearing the same old clothes,
binging the same ol’ shows,
seeing the days anastomose.
and waiting for my vaccine dose.
I’m humming the same ol’ songs,
dreading the rerun dawns,
trying to at least appear strong,
but becoming angry and withdrawn.
I'm tired of the same old faces,
of being stuck in these boring places,
of feeling my nights are wasted,
and dreaming of friends embraces.
I'm writing the same ol’ verse.
becoming increasingly terse,
knowing it could be worse,
waiting for the end of this curse.
the 2020 blues is the new national anthem
