Same alarm clock every morning.
Same old bed in the same house.
Same old church around the corner.
Same old games of cat and mouse.

Same old faces in the hallway.
Same old eyes of kelly green.
Same old neighborhoods and sidewalks.
Same old day to day routine.

Same old food inside my lunchbox.
Same old floor under my feet.
Same old purring of the engine.
Same old feelings of defeat.

Same old gossip on your tongue.
Same old punches in their fists.
Another year without a lover.
Another day without a kiss.

Same old tasks at work.
Write your hours down, go home.
Same old soap in every shower.
Same old hearts always alone.

Same old thoughts inside my head.
Same old busted nails and noses.
Same old prayers up to the sky,
Hurry up before it closes.

Same old lights outside at night,
Same split ends in my hair.
Same expressions from my mother.
Same old truth and same old dare.

This poem needs no explanation.
These words could be ignored.
Same need for spontaneity,
But there's only being bored.

Same old cycle in this thing called life,
Same old picture, same old frame.
Every day is drastically different,
Yet incredibly the same.

Same reflection in the mirror,
Same old height and weight and age,
Same shaky hands, same aching back,
Same body, hair, and name.

Same old love inside of me,
That has never changed.
But constancy is overrated,
Stagnancy is lame.

We run around in circles
Until we're all burnt out.
Run on gas until we're empty,
Run on gas until we're out.

Same old love for all my peers,
Same notebooks by my bed.
Run on gas until we're empty,
Same old life until we're dead.