Wake up, sleepyhead, Five more minutes, please. Pale morning amber skims across the floor, The autumn chill is waiting past the bedroom door. You pull the heavy quilt up to your chin, And let my quiet voice just settle in. The morning kettle hasn't made a sound, Dust motes are floating softly, barely bound. I hear you shifting softly on your side, Nowhere in this town we have to hide. Just listen to my rhythm, slow and deep, Still half-entangled in the edge of sleep. Wake up, sleepyhead, five more minutes, please, Stay tangled in the linen, drifting on the breeze. Through the phone receiver, softly in your ear, The sweetest kind of morning, keeping you right here. A gentle yawn comes floating through the line, Your sleepy laughter echoes into mine. The radiator hums against the wall, There is no hurry in this morning call. Cold glass against my cheek, warm pulse inside, With every breath you take, the shadows slide. You mumble that you ought to rise and start, Tucked in the linen, sheltered and apart. Let the cold daylight wait beyond the blind, Leave every busy thought behind. Close your eyes once more, let the shadows lean, Resting in the quiet space that lives between. Through the little speaker, warm against your skin, Five more stolen minutes, where the dreams begin. Don't move, Don't even open up your eyes. The world outside is rushing to the skies, But right here, On this wire, Time is ours to hold. Wake up, sleepyhead, daylight's touching through, Every golden second belongs to me and you. Press the cold receiver closer to your head, Just five more lazy minutes, safe inside our bed. Five more minutes, Just five more minutes, Good morning.
