Thursday morning at seven a.m. I must wake up
Carefully stepping on the warm wood floor
The cracks and the slips must not wake our parents
I go downstairs to the kitchen toasting an early bread
Dressing up slowly as my eyes open wide
Drinking a cofee and burning my tongue
Standing still in the garden I look at many people
Some of them wise and some otherwise
Walking in circles the rest of their lives
I rest dreaming about flies caught in a spider web
Asking themselves why they can't get high
Stuck on the ground to be killed at sun rise
We don't often think about it
But the choices me make Does the life we can't quit
We don't think about it
But we are animals we apply in nature's law
