Wake up in the mornings and i get to see the ceiling, i want to find it changed...and then i go behind the sheets and through the weaver's hole i again look through...i need to find a change in the ceiling...i want water to drip and wake me up every morning, i want the paint to peel with my months and years...alas it stays new and sometimes novel but yet it is not changing...i am becoming afraid of getting stuck...it is fun to catch a bullet when you are running...when you are not static...it might just miss you...