A strange foreboding silently creeps,

How can this be?

Dimly-lit room, pre-dawn trickles of light dripping in, wonder when, the evil will land?

No such thing, not obviously so, so evil to speak of that I know,

Easy life, taken on whole, so much more than so many for sure,

Silly to feel this foreboding, not knowing what the day will bring,

No matter no matter, surely I should sing, and so I will, find that voice,

Make the choice, to make it good,

GOOD.