Friday
This day likes singing
'TGIF-Thank God Is Friday'
He never thanks God
He goes chasing the bottles
Stays up soo late
that immorality can take over
He drinks
intoxicated
makes merry
fights
Looks into the sky
and 'I thank God is Friday'
The alcohol will sing him a lullaby
and lull him to a slumber
Saturday
Morning never waits for him
Wakes up to greet the afternoon
And he can shift all his blames to Friday
Before he could say its all my fault
Another call will hello his phone
and is another invitation to the club
Saturday brings its own, worse than Friday
Then an Angel thrown down on earth
will gently tease, 'You got church tomorrow'
Cliff sleeps with a mind for church tomorrow
Again the alcohol is a good cradle-singer
Sunday
He weeps,
He cries
Why me, why this,
why couldn't I wake up for church
Forgive me oh God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem