Seven AM, the usual morning line-up
Start on the chores and sweep till the floor's all clean
Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up
Sweep again, and by then, it's like seven fifteen
And so I'll read a book, or maybe two or three
I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery
I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically
Just wonder when will my life begin?
Then after lunch, it's puzzles and darts and baking
Paper-mache, a bit of ballet and chess
Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making
Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch
Take a climb, sew a dress
And I'll re-read the books, if I have time to spare
I'll paint the wall some more, I'm sure there's room somewhere
And then I'll brush and brush and brush and brush my hair
Stuck in the same place I've always been
And I'll keep wondering, and wondering, and wondering, and wondering
When will my life begin?
Tomorrow night, the lights will appear
Just like they do on my birthday each year
What is it like out there where they glow?
Now that I'm older, mother might just let me go