There are those days, when you have nothing to say;

nothing important, nothing to announce.

Those days where you stare at that same old boring wall,

sitting, laying, doing it all.

Days with clouds and days with sun.

I should just shut up and have some fun.

So I write about a pony

and about being lonely.

How I need to take the trash out

and how I always pout.

I'll write about summer, and winter, and spring.

And now I think I'm just going to sing.