Itch

Wake up and start it over again The scratching I can do with my pen. The task always seems to be undone. There remain so many miles to run. I have the stone to push up the hill I have lands that wait for the till. Every day tasks start over again When we wake up and then We see where we are And we try to go far. But it’s back at the bottom of the mountain It’s back to searching for a fountain. With waters we can’t know, that taste of highest gold. Waters that burn golden yellow, waters that are always cold. Fill up your cup, have a drink with me. The waters are no longer stopped up. Even if I might Sisyphus be. It’s my stone and it’s easy for me to push. Once you’re used to it, the job seems cush. It starts over again when I wake up with my pen. My hand was empty when I fell asleep, so what’s this then? As soon as the cold bold lights start streaming in Waking me up, making my morning begin. I find that I couldn’t stop my mind Even sleeping there are things to unbind. And that’s why I write as I write From morning til noon, til deep in the night. I wake up and it starts over again. I need to hear the scratching of my pen.