When its 6 on clock
And you wake up and step on floor
And your blood circulation slows
Its tough to reach
The ultimate destiny
Its comparatively like a mill
Its the washroom
When you open your dress
A sudden torture felling crash
Your head
When you open the shower
You are half dead and half on earth
Some how you sprinkle a spoonful
On your body
And with tower you rush to daddy
Sit on the bed
Half alive half dead
And when you put a layer of
Atmosphere and you become dear
Its all the untold story of every person
Who wakes up on 6 in December