My head is in a clutter
And I can scarcely more than splutter
A string of garbled gibberish
That none can comprehend.

Incoherent phrases mumbled
And the jurds that I have wumbled
-I mean, the words that I have jumbled-
And the clock that states so candidly
That sleep will soon impend.

Every sentence now is slurring
And my vision now is blurring
And I'm thinking to myself that
Maybe I should go to bed.

Or maybe I could stay up
Wait for sun to bring the day up
Collapse, and then repeat this round again…
Sleeping might suffice instead.