It's 8, wake, it's late, on the brush and paste, haste, to wake up at 8 is too much to take
Get wet, get set, get dressed, forget, regret, get upset,
It's 9, whine, no sleep divine, but act benign
To board a train, a pain, a bane, the crowd insane, inane
a journey, mundane
Shirt wrinkled, hair draggled, shoes mangled, head rattled, brains addled.
It's 11, reached slaves' haven, now a shaven pseudo maven,
Now work, overwork, rework, call your boss a jerk.
It's 3, work, overwork, rework, deal with your boss' smirk
Now shirk.
It's 5, now revive, need caffeine to contrive, few hours to survive.
At 8, a reason to elate, to head abode a mandate, exhilarate...sufferings alleviate,
To board a train, a pain, a bane, the crowd insane, inane
a journey, mundane
The night stark dark, dogs come along for a lark, bark.
It's 10, in the den, a phenomenon, but the roar becomes a croak by then,
Look back at the day, is this where you fit, confusions hit, end of the tunnel isn't lit, a misfit, in deep shit
At 12, eyes no more delve, now teary, wierdly eerie, bleary.
An alarm you keep, to creep into your sleep, count the sheep, sleep deep,
It's 8...to wake up at 8 is too much to take