It is early morn
and this small town stirs to life
as I pick up cig tabs from the lawn
the cook, Jane is already causing strife.
The basin is sunny and still
the people are mostly friendly and old
and I cannot believe I'm here still
being ordered and doing as told
At Noon I put out the umbrellas
and pour the same people some stella.
I've only myself to blame
I'll miles from any fast lane.
My boss lacks brains and is rather strange
and my punters are boring - all the same,
this whole place feels arranged
like playing a predictable game.
My ambition eats me from the inside
while livers cry and smoke diffuses
across the never changing tide.
Tonight, I'll wash the dishes.
There's no doubt, I've lost all heart
like a horse pulling a cart.