You need some sort of resolve, A tacit belief in your self As you gradually wake up On a Sunday morning And slowly push back The wasting regret of yesteryears, The uncertainty of the week ahead.
If you feel better now In a foreign country, The gamble has been good, The economy has helped you, You saw the light through the crack, And you entered the smooth corridors Into a strange world of opportunity.
The crickets of a fractured morning Prepare a breakfast of sounds for you In their generosity which is Only edible while half asleep; A sunlight shaft passes through the window As if in sincere apology for your travails Making your resolve stronger To confront an uncertain future.
