Each day at work spent waiting for evening
Each evening a race against time, precious
Unlike the noisy lads below, staying
Off booze and fags - or joints - I make the most
Of sober judgement and full consciousness
Last night I went down the pub, that is true
But it was to see friends as I got pissed
Not watching a film with just smoke and brew
For company, their purpose to imbue
Inactive boredom with self-deceiving
The empty room a party, glamorous
But now it's full of chances, stuff to do
Stuff getting done, then new stuff beginning
I'm nearly ready for my glamour-puss
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