When you rise,
At the break of day,
Do you have anything,
At all to say,
About "The Way"?
When you transpire,
Toward the day,
That you'll expire,
Don't you tire,
Of the same old?
The same old, same old?
That's what you're told.
Then, as the night approaches,
Have you any reproaches,
About the way,
You wasted it all?
Do you feel real small?
And, don't you,
Think about it abit,
Before you ssslip,
Into uncounsiouses?
As night,
Takes over,
You're sight.
And, hey,
Do you have anything to say,
At the break of day,
It's starting over,
And, over and over,
And, over and over,
And, over and over,
Again.
(Are you ready to begin?)