ever really knowing
if I'm coming or going
meanwhile
what am I to do with you
as somewhat akin
under the skin
yet now quite skint
but taking a sprint
and just for fun
making a dummy run
if I may say
it's leave or stay
quite the conundrum
of all things the sum
but when it's said and done
of the be and end-all none
for should you ever think of me
tho' unruly I could be
there's more to life than this
and banter's what I truly miss
not so much the rinky-dink
as everything including the kitchen sink
I am just an ordinary bloke,
I work quite hard, but I never seem to gain a yard,
Which way do I need to turn,
How come other people have money to burn,
I don't really want that much,
Just enough to live with a little to spare,
I don't have designer clothes to wear,
Just some worn out jeans and some 'T' shirts that are a bit threadbare,
But I just need to feel, relaxed and good,
So perhaps I should--
JUST ROB A BANK!!!
Where i live is so serene countryside green and wild,
To lose yourself here , takes me back to a child;
When puddles were oceans ,and mountains the trees,
you wandered home happy, black face and skint knees.
Each day an adventure an unopened book
Hero’s we were my pal the goodie me the crook;
Sticks were our weapons bushes our den
We would die loads and start over again.
The woods were our jungle you Tarzan me Jane
Screaming and laughing lost in our game
Kids with no worries innocent and pure
Why do we lose these things as we mature
I love where i live now with kids of my own
But times have changed now i am grown
I miss climbing trees innocent free and wild
0h how i wish for one day i could be a child.
Can’t stand it anymore
So dirt broke
Can’t afford to build a life
Too ill to work
Too busy to work
Too many failures
No chance to succeed
Nothing going right
Why is life so God Damn hard?
I scream to God to help
He doesn’t say anything
He makes it worse for me
Nothing goes right
My little ray of hope
Goes like suicide
No ray of hope
Such a difficult life
I’m a young man with nothing to show for it
I can’t live like this
God doesn’t listen
I hate being skint
I can’t afford to make my dreams come true
I am trapped in the life of no speech
No chance to succeed
I don’t want your handouts
I want to make the money myself
So here I go
Spending more money than making
Nothing going right
I say to you Lord
Why have you made life so God damn hard?
Feel the indigence approaching
Think of no-one and of nothing else
Heart-breaking, all consuming
Penniless pauper, from a storybook romance
“No mon, no fun”
I hear that
No nothing, no life
No growing full or fat
Who to turn to, who to run from
Incipient pauperdom permeates every thought
A threadbare mind to match threadbare costume
Unravelled, patchy, overwhelmingly fraught
Never overburdened with wealth
But enough to cover simple costs like clothes and heat and food
It should never have to come to this but it has
Only I can lay the blame upon myself
Not a lifetime of jeremiads
Some better stories were once told
Those times a yellowed memory now
Heart and soul, languid, limp and sere
Reduced to meagre, mere being
No possessions means no feeling
We all know that.
Pride as spent as the money itself
How poor, truly sorry
A pauper born, God help me