My scowl is fixed upon my face,
I can’t keep up with Sunday’s pace,
It’s not that I’ve got a thing to prove
My ambition and my blood are slow to groove.
My coffee cup ain’t full enough
I’m coming off as extremely gruff,
This ho hum day just needs to pass
It’s paining me, like broccoli gas,
The good thing is- I’ll ride it through
There’s more shit to do.
Even if today’s a joyless day
may trickle your way?