P.A.N.

Somewhere

 In between

 these two pieces of

 white bread

 Dry and stale

 That's where you'll

 find me these days

 Don't ask me how I've been lately

 When there's no reason to be dwelling in here

 An unremarkable median

 A disappointment author sings

 To the thin air

 Slowly grasping for help

 Don't ask me how I still do it all

 How I manage to get everything done

 Everything gets done

 If I could save my lies, I would

 And tell all my friends I'm desperate

 For some happiness inside

 So, here's to maybe next year

 Here's to maybe next year