In Arrears - MC Frontalot

I stay up too late as a matter of habit

It’s when the clucking in the head is signaling a think’s gravid

And going to drop an egg out;

better not sleep through

Better hope to have a microphone handy, too

Here’s a handy clue: it’s a two part story

Go to bed in the end, get up in the morning

But don’t ask the third act, it happened as I slept

Meant to maintain consciousness, wasn’t adept

What was it I kept meaning to do, make happen

From quarter to two until Gm come tapping

Like «Frontalot, you ought to come on out of your room.»

Says through the crack in the door that he can smell my perfume

That I haven’t been to bed in a week.

Come, come

That’s a slight exaggeration and I’m almost done

With a brand new record, if I could just locate

The edit window that I first intended to create

Spin around

What does it do to your inner ear?

Your account:

Don’t pay the dues?

You are in arrears

What I’ve found

Is we get just another day or two

Falling down?

Dizziness does that to you

Eventually give up on any thought that I got;

Settle into the rotation of the loves-me-not

And the bed’s right there but it don’t quite beckon;

Try to sit upright for another couple seconds

And another knuckle reckons itself uncracked

Can’t remember what I’m looking at, rewinding it back

Trying to find an exact definition for the phobia

Of getting into bed, I think instead I’m about to go to the

All night Brooklyn coffee supply

Making terrible decisions and I don’t know why

And my oh me oh, what is it to be oh?

Digital clock come creeping on the three-o-o

But lying in the dark is worse

And I may be in arrears with the sleep but averse

To trying to accomplish (is epic how I fail)

In opposition to the pillow, pillow prevails