I doubt you’d believe me if I told you the truth,
Doubt you thought I knew a secret, but oh boy I do:
This isn’t a joke, and I swear it’s not a ruse
But something magical happens between 12 and 2.
It’s those small hours when something big happens,
Not during the day, but at night, behind closed doors
Suddenly you may find your mind wide open,
Your imagination waiting to be explored.
Some go for music, some for beer, some for books,
Yet none of those work quite as anticipated,
It’s the hours the sun does not grace with looks,
That is when our thoughts become most liberated.
So next time you’re stuck and feeling like running,
Remember my advice and you will be just fine:
The least liked hours, they are the most stunning,
That is when our minds let go; you’ll find that you shine.
dream.think.work. 