Now and again, the morning ritual of waking up brings you no joy 
Gazing out the window, staring at a sky that remains the same
Day in day out, it all remains the same
Oh what joy to be found, what joy should be found
The sun rises, the moon departs
The bird’s chip and the crickets slumber
But day in and day out, it’s all the same to you 

So you brave on and try not to think endlessly 
Not about the same cup of tea, the same cup among many
Not of the same ritual, so inbred its a habit now
Day in and day out, it has to be the same
A tragedy in the making is just another tragedy
Nothing that changes remains the same
Day in and day out, it’s better not to agonize over it

Then at times, the grief is too much, as all genuine grief is
Because the day isn’t quite what you expect, even if it remains the same
But you aren’t allowed a frown, why spoil a good thing?
Comfort comes from the familiar, not knowing is its own bliss
Day in and day out, you continue as if nothing is the same
You continue as if going on is its own form of release
Still day in and day out, you get a little more lost

Passivity doesn’t quite cut it
The darkness a friend you never thought you needed
Achieving an accord that’s fickle at best
Day in and day out the hourglass a constant admonishment 
The crickets have come out to delude you of the magic of it all
You can’t help but wonder but enlightenment is its own form of prison 
Before you dejectedly accept the impossible, day in and day out you swear!

You no longer dream the same, entrapped deep within
You can’t see the war, you never know peace
But your bed is the same, as are all beds 
Day in and day out, you lie the same way 
Sometimes you get some reprieve, the night a carefully formed blank
Reprieve from the deafening days, whelming thoughts
But you know deep inside, day in day out, everything must come to light 

So another day comes and another day departs
Long forgotten, your agency lies separate from you
Now it’s difficult to determine what the problem is or was, really 
It’s just the way of every other day, day in and day out
It all remains the same, despair worse than acceptance
For really, how bad can it be
If day in and day out, you remain the same?