Wake Up

Wake up, wake up, let tomorrow be today
Don't let the good times roll away
Wake up, wake up, kick the sandman out the door
Don't let him sprinkle one grain more
Wake up, wake up, as you are as you exude
  A long winding tube for ruining food

Wake up, wake up, prise your eyes wide to the skies
In horizon's rise a wise guise lies
Wake up, wake up, little scenes of dream remain
Make your ruminating brain refrain
Wake up, wake up, choose to lose the snooze again
Put procrastination off til then

Ablute and yawn with the scorn of a new born
Torn between hoarding and spending
Keeps depending on a leap in the deep end 

Wake up, wake up, the whole world depends on you
Give the butterfly effect its due
Wake up, wake up, trust your heart for what you like
Tell the fashion gurus "on ya bike!"
Wake up, wake up, drop your guard, pick up your smile
Let a stranger know it's all worthwhile

İMal Webb 2000

The strange flexi-time that generally goes along with being a musician often results in a very open relationship with your sleep patterns, subconscious and bodily functions (thought not always an untorrid one). The word "ablute", stemming from "ablutions", is one I thought I may have invented, but I've subsequently found that it's a case of convergent evolution. And the Butterfly Effect is a comment on the interconnectedness of all things: A butterfly flapping its wing in Tahiti could lead to a tornado in Tallahassee. That's with a bit of paraphrasing for the sake of alliteration. But hell, it might as be a bootscooter picking its nose in Johannesburg leading to an earth tremor in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy. Whatever.