Back Bedroom Call Centre Blues
The sound of a Crow
And a creaking fence.
My good morning greeting.
Four walls painted white.
A singer on the radio I will never meet.
The DJ playing cheesy tunes
for people I don’t know.
Sat waiting for the next beep
the back bedroom call centre blues.
Is it wrong to name a spider.
and what’s this urge I have to cut the grass.
The fridge is to near its calling my name
and I am answering dutifully.
I may return to the office fat.
No gig tickets booked or holidays to be took
Just serenade yourself with misheard lyrics
And pictures of far off beaches.
These are the back bedroom call centre blues.
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