Little clouds, fluffy clouds, floating in my head.
They drift around and do no harm – until I go to bed.
I toss and turn under the sheets, keeping them at bay
Until I sigh and know once more I’ll have no sleep today
Little clouds, fluffy clouds, brewing in my head
I wonder how I’ll live today, or will I end up dead?
A car crash, cancer, heart attack – which reason will it be?
How will my death certificate state the end of me?
Growing clouds, stormy clouds, they’re my anxiety
I wonder when and how and why my death will set me free
At least when I’m gone from the earth there will be no more need
For me to worry when I’ll die and how since I’ll be free
But it’s not like I want to die. I don’t; that’s why I’m me
The boy with scary storm clouds swirling, clouding all he sees.