An Ode to Waking Up (ragtime!)

ragtime, clear male voice

August 6th, 2024suno

歌词

[Intro] [verse] A single synapsis fired, and assaulted my senses And it seemed to have no other pretenses than of being anything other than what it was. It started my waking consciousness thinking, and then while my eyes began blinking, the world began entering like a harsh buzz [verse] I reminded myself that with a reach of my hand I could surely stop the assault from my nightstand that will return to torment me in about 10 minutes or so. How I hated waking up just then. I knew that the sadistic alarm, so unforgiving, was clearly intending to do me harm. I felt a loss extreme as my memory fades of the dream, that I had just a moment ago [verse] I now know that coffee will be needed to wake me from my witless repose. It has yet to be brewed but the flavored idea still seems to waft past my nose. The white noise of the fan, as constant as father time that robs us of life one day at a time, lulls me back into a stupor state between sleeping and awake, that soon won't be mine. Starbucks, that heartless siren, beckoned me to crash against the rocks of consciousness, so I arose. [verse] I am like a fish with lidless eyes who can't ignore what is now before me. A mental sigh escapes me. I cherish the random symphony to some degree that is my life. But I seem to be able to see in the peripheral vision of my mind's eyes the fading distinction between what is, and what is not, that never questions the whys of the endless sea of tidal wave sight and sound that now intrudes upon me. [verse] With coffee now in hand my computer beckons me as it always does each day. With a single touch it springs to life as I keep my negative feelings at bay. As negative as an x-ray but they still have at least the positive result to make, me begin my daily journey to navigate the Internet and not make the mistake, of not writing down the chronicle of my thoughts, as I have begun to do each day. [verse] But the will of man often goes astray and because of life's ongoing disarray a task, once simple, now becomes a mental block that keeps me from finding my way. My pen, now lifeless and unmoving in my hand seemingly can write no more. It has given up all hope of completing this page even though words I adore. I rise up from my chair and I succumb to that same reality as well - the loss of yet another day. [fade out] [end]

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