I was singin’ before breakfast, ‘cos there’s many a good tune
bin played on an old fiddle, now I’m howlin’ at the moon.
There is nothin’ so frustratin’, as events you can’t control,
body weak disintegratin’, the high-life taking its toll.
As the sun sets on me, I’ll light up a cigar!
Slowly draw my second wind, burn brighter than a star: My
When I cast my weary mind back, I was everybody’s fool!
I was singing to the choir. I was brainwashed in the school.
Got me workin’ for a song, chained in habit, deep in debt.
Breakin’ my back for bad pennies, for the blood ‘n’ guts I sweat.
Time ‘n’ tide tarry for no man, but all youth is immortal.
Concoct, plot and collude, stumblin’ at the first hurdle.
‘cos the dice have long been loaded, we’re all pissin’ in the wind.
Sold out, abused, exploited; but they’ll reap our last whirlwind.
©2.9.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman
Concoct, plot and collude, but we hit the same hurdle.
Scheme, plan, plot and collude/connive/contrive/concoct n, but
Concoct, plot and collude, we all turn to alcohol.