Wake up you sleep shop heads. Wake now sleep stop.
Make with morning songs sung second to none.
Get up. Get up. Good god, get up a ton.
Stick socks and shoes on feet–sans the holdup.
Last warning. No snoozing here. Coffee’s up.
Don’t zizz on like hell on a hot dog bun
–a blanket sausage/pillowed concoction.
God bless everyone but get the hell up.
Window look, out, toward the sun. Rub your eyes
or whatever you do in the morning.
Sun’s an early riser so so must you
blow a so long kiss to your slumber selves.
And then stretch–sing like a sun a-shinin’.
Suns do sing, sleepsters. And, oh, don’t argue.