My nose runs
And I can't keep up.
The echinacea screams for me
Since mucus keeps my
Voice busy—it's all just grunts
That won't clear a path.
My lifeline is a couch that
Hurts my back.
Work still calls—I picked up
An extra shift.
My nose runs
And I can't keep up.
The echinacea screams for me
Since mucus keeps my
Voice busy—it's all just grunts
That won't clear a path.
My lifeline is a couch that
Hurts my back.
Work still calls—I picked up
An extra shift.