Days

Father’s day, Mother’s day, sister’s day, brother’s day And grandparents day, why not? What a calendar we’ve got There’s no day without a name, like a picture in a frame Days are hanging on the wall, each day has it’s special call But one thing I clearly see there’s no day that speaks of me Is it good, or is it bad, happy should I feel or sad? I’m not sure what to do, so I guess it’s up to you To speak out a clever word, what’s my day in this old world Say that I’m a missing link, there’s not much about to think Hence all empty days are mine, but don’t tell it to mankind.