I wake up and wonder
just how the day is going to be
I sometimes I feel its all the same
monday through friday
straight to freedom
then the weekend
comes and goes again

is this how life's supposed to be
running the same routines
over and over again?
Living life by the clocks
life locked in a box
on the calendar in pen?
They say progress
is passing the test
and getting money
for the time you spend
they say its being on time
to take the pulse of deadlines
and toe tag the moments ahead

but in my heart of hearts I know
im not cut out for this life
in my dreams life is timeless, beautiful, unbound
and not riddled with living
in the lines
but this economy
makes people a lil crazy
a lil desperate for
dollar signs and dates
and me? I just want good friends,
a place to crash
and a life thats not bound
to the fate

of living the same day
over and over again
spinning like a cog in
the clockworks of life
like an automaton
with buttons pushed
and switches on
puppeted by circumstances
no one can fight

cause its not how life's
supposed to be
running in circles
without the spiral
that will take you higher
or deeper in life
no wonder everyone's stressed
wound up in this mess
in which were all so mired

no wonder moneys made
from all the simple escapes
the pills and cleches that
distractfrom the reality
our lives are on repeat
and we wake up
on a one way track

but my lifes
not meant for monotony
I thrive when chaos abounds
and I often times
I feel suffocated by obligations
that hinders my freedom of sound

cause lifes a song played by ear
that cant be charted or adheared
and every days a different tune
made of joy or gloom
and there are no keys
to lock mysteries
in lines or bars

lifes the music of the
stars and the spheres
and silent smiles and the tears
that transcend time and the years
infinite
and when I wake up in the morning
feeling lifes a lil
boring
like a song thats top 40
in my head
I crave a different tuning
like a flower craves a blooming
on the untrodden path
instead

and I know ill never quite fit in
I was never meant for a mold
in this culture lifes a verse and a chorus and a bridge
but my life feels like something more...

than singing the same song
over and over again
like some broken vinyl
on the player of life
harping on the same tune
weaving on the same loom
using the same wool
thats over sheeps eyes.