Empty Habits

I have empty habits that follow me in my sleep, 

That stare down empty hallways full of sheep,  

Habits creeping like beggars on the street,  

With their rags they shroud me, so I am never complete  

Enough to wake up from my dreams, 

Where I wander away from life’s extremes, 

Depending on how you look at it.  

Depending on how you look at it, 

I am having an insignificant little fit, or 

I am simply in need of ceasing to sit, 

In need of filling my habits with colorful wit, 

Or pinching myself when I start to slip. 

I have empty memories of these halls of sheep 

Who taught me empty habits that I must keep: 

Today will pass, and tomorrow will thicken the glass. 

And I must not lust 

After any world too far away,  

for it is moving and I am sleeping 

With these empty habits that are steeping.