Long hours, too short.

The night’s marched on by, and till morning’s not so long.
It’s come down to do or die, come down to right or wrong.
The studying’s all been done, and it’s time to lay me down.
I’ve no longer the choice to run, far too late to turn back now.

Hope rests on the sunrise, but the fever’s got to my brain.
Sleep’s missing from my eyes, familiar restlessness come again.
The weight of expectations sit, no heavier than my own,
but so much harder to lift, the older that I’ve grown.

The fear is disappointing all those hopes that ride on me.
Of those so much more deserving, and deserving more than me.