In the morning
I pace.
In the morning when the sun creeps up behind clouds;
In the morning when mothers and fathers fight
About coats and traffic, weather and money;
In the morning
I pace.

In the morning when children wake with sleepy innocent eyes
To greet the day in a smiling way;
In the morning where alcoholics and friends awake
With a headache and foul taste;
In the morning
I pace.

In the morning when cars make their daily migration
Across the triumphs or failures of civilization;
In the morning when the homeless awake cold and still but only halfway dead;
In the morning when sweatshop workers depart and return;
In the morning
I pace.

In the morning when bullets fly and machetes rise;
In the morning when the hopeless toss and turn with sorrow;
In the morning when raindrops fall and flood;
In the morning when the moon slowly fades;
In the morning when music plays for weary ears;
I the morning
I pace
And think of you.

What a foolish thing love is.