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.