Thousand pound eyelid over each window
To my soul, tender, aching to hit snooze
As the alarm calls out once again, “Go!
Get the fuck up now! Your life is a lose-
Lose situation, a zero sum game
If you’re lucky, with no breaks, no off days.
Don’t you grow hungry as other men do?
With the hours you are revealed the same
As those other men whose fate so scares you
That you shut eyes to what needs to be done
That is, work! Your body through needle’s eyes,
Poor man, the kingdom is your reward. None
Will be there but those who wake ‘fore sunrise.”
Good God! Curséd morning tone, leave me be.
I’ll take my chance in Hell for some more sleep.

text by Sam Robinson

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