What can one do at 4:02, there's nothing on T.V.
My music's too loud for this trailer park crowd, I really should live in the country.
I could play my guitar and let the music go far,
and only startle the squirrels.
I'd invite them in for some tea from a tin, while we leave alone the sleeping world.
In the wee small hours I could practice my powers and no one would be the wiser.
Then, at breaking dawn I'd lay my head on, my pillow to resume my slumbers.
In dreams, so they say, you can fly away, to meet and greet great persons.
Socrates, Plato even Ian Anderson, yeah! I'd like to get his take on the Beatles.
I would sit down, just to kick around, ideas, with ole Will Shakespeare.
Spend some time with Bob Heinlein. Asimov, Clarke and Greg Bear.
In any event I'd pitch my tent on the banks of the mighty Nile.
So to take my ease and do as I please, while I smile at that grumpy crocodile.
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