Up in the morning to start your day

“What shall we do?” You hear yourself say

You realise then and you feel a berk

The Government’s said that you can’t work

Should you go out?  The answer is “No!”

There’s no particular place to go.

 

It’s 9am and the time is near

For cracking a can of lager beer

At 10 o’clock and you’re on your third

You’re starting to sweat and your voice is slurred

You’ll need a new crate if you don’t slow

But there’s no particular place to go.

 

Lie on the couch; you’re stuck in your flat

Eating Doritos and just getting fat

Watching TV in the afternoon

Thinking of chips – it’s dinner time soon

Watching your waistline constantly grow

With no particular place to go.

 

All day long you’ve been waiting for tea

Chips again? We’ll just have to see

More TV and constantly fed

Another day over, it’s time for bed

Tomorrow again the same status quo

With no particular place to go.