Seven A.M., the usual morning line-up Start on the chores, and sweep 'til the floor's all clean Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up Sweep again And by then It's, like, seven-fifteen
And so I'll read a book Or maybe two or three I'll add a few new paintings To my gallery I'll play guitar and knit and cook And basic'ly Just wonder, when will my life begin?
Then, after lunch, it's puzzles, and darts and baking... Papier-maché, a bit of ballet, and chess... Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making... Then I'll stretch Maybe sketch Take a climb Sew a dress
And I'll re-read the books If I have time to spare I'll paint the wall some more I'm sure there's room somewhere And then I'll brush, and brush And brush, and brush my hair Stuck in the same place I've always been
And I'll keep won'dring And won'dring And won'dring And won'dring When will my life begin?
Tomorrow night... The lights will appear Just like they do on my birthday each year What is it like Out there where they glow? Now that I'm older Mother might just let me go...