The sound sleep days of life
Over the round pan cake couch,
The area so smooth and peaceful
With very little disturbance
Through the skinny wall of placental womb;

Money, enemy or more
Is of no importance to the mulberry that grow,
The knocking of each palm, some while
Is the only call to be heard
During those crawling days of life.

The radar is the only cord
Signals captured are quite strong,
Promising not to disturb any more,
Except during moments of boredom
The kick is only a sign to glow;

Those were really days of fun
No tension or any load,
The warmth of care and love,
Hope all man crams those
To do their best, for the rest of life that flows.