Tomorrow, at the beginning of the treacherous month,
Let it be, let it be the month I work/ of work/ for work.
Let it be the month I face the Aberdeen wind, with a knowing smile,
A confused grin, with brazen abandon.
Let it be the month, I start the year in style.
Lets get laid, because I’m a Nietzsche-reading-animal.
And make the bed and cleanse my room, cause Rousseau knew more than me.
Let it be the month were I lay down the colourful cover,
The colourful sheets, the colourful eyes.
Let it be the month I stay most hardy and the mind conquers the body.
Let it be the month my nose grows black with ink, yet my hands,
Grow warm with the warmth of others.
Let it be the month I grow to be a man.