All my continents are drifting

Some work-in-progress lyrics

How about some unfinished lyrics that I have some unreserved affection for? Two songs, as yet unfinished. The first depicts depression as a bad friend. The second is about the anxiety that my brain is fading via long Covid, aging, or both.

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WORK-IN-PROGRESS THE FIRST

You knew the best songs.
You loved to sleep in,
Sometimes we’d sleep the whole day long.
You were always good for a good cry.
And you were as bad as me at goodbyes.

You cracked up every mirror,
shouting GOOD LUCK!
You called me good for nothing
And the name stuck.
Still you stayed with me
Through bad and good.
My other friends hated you;
I called you misunderstood.

But sometimes, man, I just need space
And you can’t help but show your face.
I don’t wanna seem ungrateful
For such a faithful friend like you.

When I finally find my feet,
You bring all your rain and sleet,
Waving round that winding sheet
Indiscreetly like you do…

So let me just say
Thanks
For nothing.

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WORK-IN-PROGRESS THE SECOND

All my continents are drifting
In a time-lapse stutter spit,
A synapse hissy fit.
It’s quick dry concrete
And quicksand devouring my feet.

My mind’s crumbling like a wedding cake
Trying to stand up to a hurricane.

All my confidence is slipping.
Black ice banana peel.
I’m an detached flaming Ferris wheel
Spinning out of control
But at least I’m on fire and on a roll.

There’s a riot going in my brain—
Drifters, squatters, and the criminally insane.
Like daylight running out of gas,
Yet another thing just out of grasp.