Yesterday is here again,
so I rise from where I lie.
For I have my rock
and my mountain to climb.

I cry out in protest,
my rock is heavy.
I climb my mountain every day,
in every way.

I am alone.
All I have is my rock.
And my mountain.

Oh, I might find something new,
but the rock will squash it
when it comes rolling down.

It always does.