there are days

where i just want to lay;

to pretend i'm gone

beneath the sky of the dawn;

to pretend i'm dead,

someplace other than my bed;

buried deep into the ground,

to block every sound;

but i get up.

i get up to greet the soft skies,

to ignore the devil's lies,

to listen to the whisper of the trees,

to feel the soft soil beneath my knees;

i wake up to sing to the birds,

and the birds sing back to me.