disillusionment is what reality is made of

I'm so freaking tired, and I can't get the heating to work, and I read the fault in our stars, then I read Hamlet because I'm just that girl but I cannot seem to fall aslee

--

I fell asleep. But at some point in my night-time rambles I wrote a...thing. It's not a real thing, but hey I don't have anything else to do with it

if I could live in tinseltown

i'd still be warm in winter

their skyline nightly changes round

and romance is coated in glitter
if I could live in tinseltown

I wouldn't be disillusioned

I'd neon waltz upon the sound

closed off to all intrusions

here routinely rundown walkways

and steeples that stay the same

drive the drudgery of days

as predictable as the rain

eyes don't dazzle, instead they're dull

i've always felt disjointed

and every time I meet someone cool

I'm always disappointed

If I could live in tinseltown

you would not have dashed my hopes

the place itself is made of dreams

so I wouldn't have had to wake up