@migu music@

The crisp sheet bedding pulled down to the floor,

My raised, tired brows have witnessed its lore

And i won＇t have much to say, if i don＇t return.

Easy risers don＇t give into pleas,

They don＇t take mess from the sleepy streets

And the abacus says, ＇keep on counting＇

The law of the waking people greets with such heavy cymbals

And the morn catches fire

Youre the king whos crowned as they lay down!

A big day is brewing