This time tomorrow...

I don't know what I'll be doing.
Perhaps I'll be dozing with my head on your thigh, pretending to read and watching the fire burn.

But I won't be sitting on a hard hard chair, wondering what you're doing, and wishing I knew how to be interesting.

I don't know what I'll be doing.

Perhaps I'll be lying in the spa, with your hands and body and mouth working magic on me while I drink something wonderful.

But I won't be comforting a weeping mother. I won't be getting up to see to crying children. I won't be letting out the dog.

This time tomorrow...

I don't know what I'll be doing.

Perhaps I'll be listening to you sleep.