Monday

four o' clock in the morning, i'm feeling like a slob; the alarm says that i must go, to face this horrid job! the weekend's all a tease, just when i'm good and lax; monday beheads my shallow pride, like an executioner's axe! my eyes are swollen crusty, my breath's a putrid stench; saliva soaks a beaten pillow, my energy lies in a trench! i dread each day of monday, as i drag myself to the shower; my nerves are like an itchy rash, my attitude's vague and sour! out the door i go, to battle a huddled freeway; monday is just the beginning, where in the hell is friday?!!