Counting

You swallowed your pride
Moved back to the town you knew —
The place where you’d hide
When it all seemed too much for you
When you’re up
You long to see real faces. (counting)
When you’re down
You wish the world would run aground. (counting)
Closing the door
You pull down the dusty blinds
Rubbing your eyes
You find ways to kill the time
It’s seven-o-clock, then it’s quarter to eight
You’d get out of the house
But you’ve left it too late again
When you’re up
You want to hear real voices. (Counting)
When you’re down
You wish the world would make no sound. (Counting)
When you’re up
You try to find real love again. (Counting)
When you’re down
You wish the world could not be found. (Counting)