This is an ode to the things I say,
"I think I'll do that another day."

To the paper that I had to write
Instead of staying out late last night.
Now I sit by the computer light
And I cannot think of what to type.

I always wanted to learn guitar,
But in this wish I never got far.
Six strings did make the famous singers,
But these strings never touched my fingers.

I said I would get more exercise;
Man, that was just a bunch of lies.
Now I sit here with my flabby thighs,
With excuses running through my mind.

I loved this girl, I should have told her;
Before I did, our time was over.
Now there is only this pain inside;
Deep pain which I will forever hide.

Where does our time go? I just can't say.
I stayed in bed until one today
While my ideas just faded away.
Could life have happened another way?

This is an ode to the things I say,
"I think I'll do that another day."

~By Ben Wells