Feeling a funk

After all the jacks are in their boxes and the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street, footprints dressed in red
and the wind whispers mary

A broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
Somewhere a queen is weeping somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind it cries mary

The traffic lights they turn of blue tomorrow
And shine their emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sails downstream cause the life that lived is is dead
And the wind screams mary

Will the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past
And with this crutch its old age and its wisdom
It whispers no this will be the last
And the wind cries mary

Not sure exactly where the funk is originating, or whats causing it.. I just feel it, clouding around my mind and edging in to spread its funkatude on every aspect of my day. It’s just there. Wish I knew how to shake it off, but that’s not easy when I don’t know exactly whats causing it in the first place. ~shrug~ Maybe over this long holiday weekend I can work it out, or maybe it’ll just go away on it’s own. It does that sometimes, the funk, it’ll creep in from wherever it comes from, hang out inside my head for a few days, then wander off in search of some other venue I guess… the problem is, for those few days, it drives me nuts as I try to figure out whats causing it and get rid of it.

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