Tired as Death

It is 2:55am, I'm kneeling on a random green folder filled with papers on the concrete floor of the Hoffman's computer/dance costume room, and I feel as tired as death. Steve and I have been sitting in front of the other computer drowsily mulling over lyrics for "Keep In Touch When You're Gone," a sweet new song of his, trying to get verse two. Here's what we've got so far:

The road branches off
And leads away from home
And now my mind and thoughts
Return to what I've known
You can find me here
Never growing old
Remembering the years
And wishing you were still here

The chorus is kick-butt, but I'll keep it from you for now. I love Stephen's songs. And I love my acoustic guitar playing (most of the time. Actually I despise my stupid scales and runs now. They almost make me sick when I play them).

We get up in a few hours and Steve plays bass and Mike runs sound and then there's the dance show at 3. I keep thinking about the remains of my Taco Bell Dr.Pepper in the fridge and how it's sweet coldness would quench my dull pounding thirst. I'm probably going to go drink some of it, pitch the rest, brush my teeth and go to sleep.