Sometimes
I lie
Awake at night
It’s a sign
Or a symptom of decline
From staring at computer screens
Attending to the fax machine
And the bus
It moves so slow like my day
Why should I feel so low?
It’s a shame
That this is how we’ll spend today
But by Friday at five fifteen
I’m queuing at a cash machine
For my pay
We’re going to fritter it away
Do you long
For just one good dream
And a song
Free from the misery
Is it wrong?
To find somewhere you belong
He gets home
To a cold, dark house
On his own
Reality freaks him out
He has grown
Up to be one lonely man
So why has he got no dough
And when did the good times go
Away
Did he fritter it away?
William Gray
Recent comments