2011 - Day 241

Sitting, sitting, slumbering,
On cardboard made of glass,
Shooting stars drink daiquiris
A little bit too fast,
Spinning wild, uncontrolled,
This is the Revolution,
Follow them who follow at
Ten thousand revolutions.
Give into the daily mess
The land of mistletoe,
They won't remember anyways
That you can whistle though,
And in the end to sit back down
To watch it all unfold,
Writing down what nonsense brings
Their stories all untold.