its 6 o'clock in the morning
yearning inside to prolong that dream
i'm the master of the world out there
a conductor par excellence
friends and foes are like the timelines
merging, meeting and then diverging

its 6 o'clock in the morning
strong desire for heavy brewed tea
but the conductor calls it curtains
another eventful dream comes to an end
newspaper arrives with its banal headlines
death, corruption and falling stocks

its 6 o'clock in the morning
i make my middle-class choices
born out of ordinary needs
and affordabilty of simple pleasures
less sugar for my tea?
a worrisome waistline
shampoo my hair?
a scratchiness on the scalp, perhaps?
which shirt to wear today?
skip ironing and bear the creases?

its 6 o'clock in the morning
and i'm talking to the world
its most indispensable invention
created for the classes, the masses
my fingers run all over it
i play merry go round
all thru the music channels
little blips seen, switched, returned
well, the more they differ
the more they look alike

its 6 o'clock in the morning
my train of thought will take me
through faraway lands in time
in a jiffy to the 8 o'clock land
another week begins for me to abuse
for me to get abused