I can relate to these words weekly.
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You sit and you schedule, you know what goes when and then where
You pin up your masterpiece, the pinnacle of your year
The day starts, the clock is ticking, everything runs smooth
Then comes the hiccup, the bump in the road
There goes the day’s schedule, everything goes flying into the air
That activity? Nope, no time.
That must get done thing? Yep, it’s gone too
Now you are scrambling to reclaim the serenity of a nicely planned day
Four time demanding events, each carefully planned
Now are four monsters, with blood on their hands
The blood of your schedule, shredded and now dead
With the rapids before you, the ones that you dread
Event one looms, and with a strong heave
You send it air born with hope and a prayer
The other three you face with a whip and a chair
Their claws and their teeth to…
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