A Routine Day

It started off a routine day

I got through the morning in the usual way

I caught the bus on time

Good morning, Mr. 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 again

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

Can't you see you're just a cog working like a dog

You trade your future for a dead-end job

That's full of routine days

Routine days

I race the clock to the end of my day

The paycheck 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

Humdrum

And I'm waiting on the pier 'til Charon comes