I sit alone and wonder why,
As I listen to the traffic thundering by,
I seem only to come alive at night
And go to bed when the dawn breaks light.
I seem quite often to sit and brood,
Yet it puts me in a tranquil mood.
As I fill my glass I'm prone to say
Well here's to another uneventful day.
For what I've got I should be glad
Yet inside myself the feeling is sad.
Will what I write while I brood
Ever really be - understood?
The silence fills my thumping head
I toss and turn when I go to bed.
Then I wake up feeling pain
To start the emotions all over again.
Its so frustrating, where do I begin?
Is being happy really a sin?
Today I'll be happy for a time, it's true,
That time will be - when Im with you.