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A day is when the sun comes up,
And we are dragged from the bed;
Strong coffee in the same old cup,
Some scrambled eggs and bread.
A quick shower to dress in a hurry,
It’s another day to be stuck in the traffic;
The forehead draws lines of worry,
Not realizing the world is photographic.
And when the day ends its dusk,
There’s barely enough to get back home;
The mannerisms all turn brusque,
Everyone wants their own version of rome.
There’s just no time left over from here,
No time to see a flower come to bloom;
We want a warm blanket to disappear,
By now the bed has become the tomb.
Then one day we just wake up,
And realize something is missing;
Drinking from the same old cup,
There is nothing for the reminiscing.
Some courageous ones may set out,
On a path to the pursuit of happiness;
They give up even before they scout,
The life is now a shell of emptiness.
What a tragic life we live, if it’s like this,
For this is not what we are meant to be;
Every day is like the thrill of a first kiss,
Because we’re happy when we’re free.