Wake up late with my shoes unlaced, Mind still halfway floating through space, Tyden yelling “Dad where’s my soccer socks?” While Aleera moonwalks through the hallway rocks. Lisa laughing saying “you’re chaos mate,” I said “nah babe this is organised fate,” Coffee too hot, burnt half my tongue, Still singing old GBT hooks from when I was young. Back then cheap mics in Adelaide nights, Now I’m site walks, flood calls, Teams invite life, One minute façade chats talking weatherproof paths, Next minute philosophising life in the supermarket carpark. Mindfully drifting through mystical riddles, Still losing my keys in the house every single minute, Trying to chase balance while bills keep building, Spiritually centred but financially thrilling. Quick flip, slick wit, tongue twist gliding, Word bends, head spins, rhythm colliding, One thought branching into six more visions, Like “what if existence itself is just intuition?” But then Aleera laughs and breaks the whole spiral, Saying “Dad you overthink EVERYTHING vital,” And honestly she’s probably not wrong, I’d analyse silence if the room stayed calm too long. Everybody nowadays chasing some higher state, Cold plunges, podcasts, gurus on stages, Meanwhile real growth’s probably hidden way deeper, Like staying patient when your kid spills juice on the speakers. And life gets funny when you really pay attention, Blokes talk alpha while emotionally dependent, One minute preaching masculine domination, Next minute crying ‘cause WiFi lost connection. Fast pace, bass shakes, whole room bouncing, Old-school SuAdE flow still mountain-climbing, Mid-line pivots with the rhythm still shifting, Gifted but twisted mentally shape-shifting. Tyden wants gaming, Lisa wants peace, Aleera wants dance songs played on repeat, And I just want one bloody weekend sleeping, Without somebody yelling “Dad where’s my drink bottle thingy?” Still… Wouldn’t trade this mess for anything. Because somewhere between the stress and nonsense, The late bills, loud kids and workplace conflicts, There’s a weird kinda magic in surviving together, Laughing through storms instead of folding under pressure. And maybe happiness ain’t some final destination, Maybe it’s loud kitchens and dumb conversations, Maybe the whole point of life’s hidden in moments, That feel ordinary while they’re happening around us. Now the beat hits bigger and the whole thing lifts, Soul stays grounded while the mind still drifts, Clear eyes now with the heart still open, No fake guru quotes or chemically coping. Just music, movement, family and flaws, Deep thoughts interrupted by dance recital calls, One weird Aussie dad still chasing perspective, Turning chaos into rhythm through reflective obsession. And if tomorrow gets hard again? Sweet. I’ve survived every version of me so far.
