Thursday 12 February 2004


For those of you who know me and are reading this, this poem is not about the real me, it's about a hypothetical me that probably exists as someone else in a different life.

Couldn't sleep agian last night,
got this feeling that something's not quite right
it's not the bills piling up on the floor
it's not the stranger knocking on the door
it's not the nameless voices on the phone
someone, please, give this dog a bone!

I go to a dead-end job every day
it sucks but my luck just seems to be this way
no matter what I do it all seems to blow back in my face
this life is such a stupid mindless race
sometimes I wonder if my boss even knows who I am!
Maybe it's all just part of the scam!

I sit dreaming of better things, somewhere over there...
I just don't know how I'm gonna make it without going spare
and the clock ticks on by;
as I sit here and wish that time would fly.
But it never does.
It never does.