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
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