Who am I?
Grand designs unwind themselves after a long week at work,
Ditched the plastic helmets and ultrabrite shirts,
Doling out to my colleagues Bacchanalian promises.
Need the space to vent it all,
So the source will perspire,
While feeding the fire in a thirsty employee.
But the keys are mislaid and the wallets is absent,
The plans are waylaid, the night could be cancelled.
Misery needs company and it has a ready sidekick.
Mind twisted with worry that this night is,
Headed further south than an ocean-going leviathan.
How long does a man have to work?
Forever shuffling in the dirt like a worm,
Until the weekday pours out,
And I enjoy what I’ve earned.
Is it a crime to get out of the house for once?
Grab a few pints and a little bit of munch,
Endure a call from my love with her undies in a bunch.
I’m constantly working, grafting my arse off,
While my other half can make me feel like a cast-off.
Ordering me about on my only day out,
Isn’t freedom what Friday nights are all about?
I’ll be heading home on the worst contraption on earth.
Two things men fear from birth combined —
Large moving things in the night time