Waking up to the sound of cooing pigeons
Recounting many blurry ordeals dreamy eyes saw
Seemingly not on the right side of the bed
A good day ahead I prayed
Strolling against the windy winds
Trying to bring out a force to pace
Churning out a smile to deceive
Not bad trying to sway away nosy questions
Telling dreamy tales to the marines
Returning in sixes and sevens
I decided not to fall between two stools
The ones with an ugly taste