The mornings are hard, are they not?
Waking up I have to meet the day
Never does it greet me back, or so I thought
Until my alarm clock told me to go away

“Get more sleep!” it shouted, and I complied
I slept until dinner called from the table
But the food left me hungrier; so I sighed
And my thoughts flew up onto the gable

I asked them quite politely, with a please
Would you please return, good thoughts of mine
But they refused and made outlandish decrees
Such as “Wasteland!” and “O My Darling, Clementine!”

Eventually I wrestled them to the floor
Took a shower, brushed teeth, and I forgot
To reset my alarm clock once more
The mornings are hard, are they not?