"Stop laying there and resting your head!
It's time to get up and out of bed!"
These words every morning I dread.
"It is a great time to rise!"
Never did I believe such lies.
I wanted to continue my sleep and dream
but the morning's light came down like a beam.
I wanted to just stay there and rest.
Why must each day put me to the test?
Is there northing worse than waking each day
just to be thrown into the frey?
I hold back my complaints and begin to stand
and I continue thinking how more sleep would be grand.
Wearily I leave my bed
and from lack of sleep I feel dead.
The thing that gets me through today
and the thing that gets me through every day
is going back to sleep in my bed
until the next rousel which I'll dread.
