Long ago the clock washed midnight away Oh God, I must be dreaming And time to start up again Pulling on my socks again When I was sitting there drinking beer And trying to start another letter to you Don’t know how many times I dreamed to write again last night Should’ve been asleep when I turned the stack of records over and over So I wouldn’t be up by myself And say fuck a job and money Because I spend it all on unlined paper and can’t get past “Dear baby, how are you?” Look outside, sky is dark More from Gil Scott Heron