Seven o'clock, I wake up
And outside, it's light
Quickly, I sweep, the house must shine
I wax, I scrub, I tidy up
And I chase the dust
I clean every cupboard
Until seven fifteen

Then, I read a book
And even two or three
I add some colors
That only please me
Then, it's guitar, knitting
Cake and sometimes
I wonder where is the real life?

Afternoon it's puzzle, darts and cookies
Papier mâché, classical dance, checkmate
Pottery, puppet theater and candles
Gymnastics, plastic arts
Rope, and Pascal amazes me

Then I reread my books
I dream of adventures
I add color
I'm sure it's missing
Then I brush, I brush
And brush my hair
In this prison where I grew up
And I wonder, and ask
And ask, and ask
Where is the real life hiding?

And tomorrow night
The lights rise
As it's the day
Of my birthday
What does this summer evening look like?
I'm older
I should be able to go there

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