Seven in the morning and it's foggy outside

Like it's been Every other day

And a bit of light in the room

Shines on empty glasses

And all the little white surfaces

Dawn is nderneath the building

You feel it in your loins

Or what claims to be them

All the dark pillows keep packing the heat

On what could have been

Another staging

Or another rehearsal

For the greatness

That will always Come