7 am, one day more I start
To do the chores and sweep very well
I polish and wax, I wash and shine up
I'm done, what time is it? 16 past 7
I'll read a book, or maybe two or three
Or in my library I'll paint something
I play guitar, knit, bake and I don't know
When will I start to live
Puzzles, darts and bake cookies
Paper mache, ballet, and some chess
Pottery, ventriloquism and candles
Stretch, draw or climb or sew
I'll reread the books if I've got time to kill
And I'll paint something else, I'll find a place
And brush and brush my hair
But in the end I always come back here
I ask myself, ask, ask that when
will I start to live
The lights that
I wish to contemplate
Every year on my
birthday they are
From where they are
There I want to go
Perhaps today my mother
Will let me
Go out already