I woke up in a new year,
hanging pages on a wall.
Thought, every month I’ll flip them
and a few times they will fall.
I went about my day
and I got in my way.
I ran outside and walked a lap
then walked inside to find a nap.
And I got up,
I always seem to wake up.
Awoke in somebody else’s dream,
and there I was how they always saw me.
Strolling gently, smooth breezes on my mind.
Cool and hot, felt so calm it was crazy.
Found me in somebody else’s dream,
and there I was where they thought I’d be.
Confused, lost cause with only me on my mind.
Full of lies, I ran away – but I didn’t.
I gotta get up.
The calendar stares
from the floor over there
and I’m unaware
of the day, or the date, or the distance.
Rather wake up to face it.
I always seem to wake up.
this is your life chuck johnson 