• I'm up before the sun
    Cold coffee left in the pot.
    I'm exhausted before the week has begun.
    My back hurts as if I slept in an old cot.
    This dreary, moist morning
    Is one hardly welcome.
    With the world still in mourning
    For the loss of the their freedom.
    None of us are psychic
    But we know what we'll face.
    It's like having shoes full of brick
    In a foot race.
    Our feet drag as we go out the door,
    The empty bag
    Feeling like it weighs a ton more.
    This horrible day
    The one we've come to dread,
    Is starting at this moment, today.
    But on this particular day,
    just this once,
    I think I'll just stay in bed.