If tomorrow didnt begin with that perky sun again,

If tomorrow like me,

Stayed in bed and didnt open its eyes.

Would I not be tomorrow then?

I could be tomorrow,

as tomorrow could be me.

Perkiness would go out the window

Frivolity would go down the drain

All that would remain

Is the sulky little child sitting on the window sill.

Staring at the darkness outside,

smirking,

For he has the sun in his Fist.