It’s not the alarm that gets me up,

Nor the breeze blowing my way,

As I slowly push my blankets aside,

To pray that my day is okay.

 

It’s not the shower I turn icy cold,

Nor the green tea high in caffeine,

As I walk down the stairs,

Harshly brushing my hair,

Hoping no one will be too mean.

 

It’s not the clothes I wear,

That have rips and tears,

And my socks that don’t really match.

 

Nor the smell of my oils,

As essential as they are,

To make it easier to relax.

 

It’s an interesting book that wakes me up,

That is often in different colors,

One that is more than a great pass-time read,

Or a book passed down from your mother.

 

This book entails great battles and floods,

And things that are hard to believe,

But that’s just what kind of God I serve,

And he loves unconditionally.

 

He’s the one who wakes me up,

So sweetly in the morning,

I’ve never been an early riser,

But with him it’s never boring.

 

It sounds kind of silly,

Trust me I know, 

I wish you knew about heaven,

So you could wake up,

With a heart filled in love,

Even if it’s a quarter past seven.