We all have our uniforms.
Does your workplace make you wear a uniform Because you’re a firefighter, nurse or a cop? Do you proudly wear your dark blue trousers With that sexy white button up top? Are you a chef cooking in a ridiculously tall hat, Or a judge with an outlandish toupee, Who gives terms of punishment out to the criminals, Then tells the guards to take them away. At work uniforms worn say we belong to this group, Say allegiance, say honour and truth. I guess that’s why the bikie gangs around town Give logoed jackets to rambling youth. But me, I’m simple, I wear smart casual at work, During the day I am out of sight. It’s when I get home, alone with my girl, We dress in uniforms all throughout the night. It doesn’t mean we belong, or have honour or code, Or any real deep meaningful duty. It means we love the implied power, the roles we can play, Is a mental abstract form of beauty.
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