Each day’s the same day

Copy and paste                                      

The same plain old feelings

Same rest, same haste

The days drone on

Full of small simple sighs

Not quite having fun

Yet time still flies 

I am a writer,

I write worlds and stories

Heroes and villains

Failures and glories

If I can make these worlds 

And I can make these faces

Why can’t I make reality 

Like one of those places? 

There’s no sparkling magic

Or inventive new fun

This world’s always the same

When the day is done

Each day’s the same schedule             

Hanging over my face

So I sit and I breathe

And I copy and paste

Life’s a small crumpled paper                  

Next to glassy old screens

A dry dusty desert                                  

With no water, no dreams

When Life’s like a nap                             

And not like a race

Each day’s the same day

So copy and paste. 

Life pats my shoulder

Without seeing or caring               

That I sit here bored

Numb and staring

Well that’s a bit rude

Like a punch in the gut

it can’t always be like this 

So you know what?

Since Life doesn’t care 

I’ll write my way out

Take charge of my own life,

choose what it’s about

And when I try, 

I find magic in the mundane

Little things that make me happy

Stories in the wood grain                         

I wake like a warrior                                

Energy all around   

Rediscovering passions

Bursting with song and sound

I guess I forgot how to live my life

And find happiness in simply being

I turned the desert to an oasis                 

Just by truly seeing

Every day’s a new day

So don't let it waste

Whatever you do,

Don’t copy, don’t paste