"When you lie in bed awake for two hours; get up, and go do something else to get tired. Lie in bed for a few more hours. Awake. Over and over until you come too close to getting up you are just watching the alarm clock tick down to the sound you hate most. After a while you start plotting elaborate homicidal fantasies against the irreproachable plastic box of slumbers' demise. A veritable sea of rotary number cells strewn about the bedroom floor; where if you were not so tired you would "Scroodge-McDuck" off the bed post into them laughing maniacally. Then of course the alarm goes off and you begin another day shaking your fist sarcastically towards the ceiling like it did something wrong. Poor ceiling. It might never know that all those gestures were meant for someone beyond it." - [Comments somewhat unrelated]

A lot of work needs to be done on the lyrics to this one.