You’re starting to get comfortable
And I fear these bad habits
Will be our biggest downfall

If the nights were the day
Everything would be ok

But the days are bright
And our pockets empty
With little in sight

I’m not rich
Nor poor
Little to eat
But much to read
I thought we planted a seed

Maybe I am wrong
Maybe we will work

I am far from sure
And frankly these bad habits are becoming a bore

I hope tomorrow will be different
But if the days consist of this
This story will end
And my faith will begin to mend.