It started off a routine day

I got through the morning

In the usual way

I caught the bus on time

Good morning Mister Driver, drive

As I sat inside my overcoat

I clutched my cane

And pressed my nose

Against the foggy window pane

Ho hum...

The life I lead would even make

A dead man yawn



Midday comes, I break for lunch

With my sandwich and a beer

I go on a hunch to the park

Where I hope to find

A little bit of peace of mind

As I sat there on a bench

Amidst the rodent race

I felt a strange sensation

That without a trace appeared

But then as quickly disappeared agian



So tell me what's the bloody point

Of playing the game

With so much to lose

Yet so little to gain

You sell your life away

Why can't you see you're just a cog

Working like a dog

You trade your future

For a dead-end job

Just full of routine days

Routine days



I race the clock to the end of the day

The paycheque in my pocket

Makes me feel okay

But was it worth the grind

Just to keep from falling behind

I stand here in the queue

Behind a foul cigar

My face discreetly buried

In a book on Mars

Hum drum...

And I'm waiting on the pier till Charon comes