When the clock strikes at four
my mind will not be at rest anymore,
when the clock strikes at four
this little energy i have will be fully drained,
these pillars of mine will be very weak
and unstable to hold my body  anymore.

When the clock strikes at four
i will be tired of forgetting,
my hand will not be able to keep the pen dancing,.my thoughts will be saturated by you
i cannot do it anymore
i can hardly bare sitting here anymore.

Its a Friday
After such a long day yesterday.
Tomorrow is Saturday
And thanks God that i will be home tonight.
I shall fail to cope because my mind roams in thoughts
saturated by my plans for tomorrow.

It is 8o'clock on the wall,
the moment for me to start trying to solve for X's
at nine i will have to retell the story of Animal Farm,
the death of Othello and anylse those poems.
At 10:30 i will be free
an additional language always makes my day.
But when the clock strikes at one
my soul will be gone and my body will be shut down,
i shall await for the clock to strikes 3:30
before some little excitment kicks in.

When the clock strikes at four,
i shall carry my bags with me and
get drifted away by the wind like
chaff.
I shall find my way home,
only to get a peace of mind and a hot bath.
And then think about you until i nearly drawn,
when the clock strikes at four,
i know i will be going home today.