Shaking to **** in my suit and tie
Smoking cigarettes to make the time pass by
Hungover to hell in uncomfortable clothes
A job interview; yes it's one of those

I walk in shake hands, make eye contact
Tell them about myself, this and  that
Soon the awkward questions start
Beneath my ironed shirt I can feel my heart
               .            .            

Why do I put myself in these situations
It's not like I'm bothered about an occupation
Sitting smoking cigarettes and reading books
Noting down in rhyme my outlook
Keeps me happy more or less
No need for any of this trauma or stress
Money ? Sure I could do with more
But when I think about it, what for ?
I'd only start to drink to excess
And that's no route to happiness
Or the palace of wisdom, but I digress
And drugs turn your life into an unholy mess
So is it better if I don't try
Just sit and watch as life goes by
Making notes on it now and then
When I feel the urge to grasp my pen
Only too well I understand
The sorrows of a working man
If I don't work is it a life unspent?
And when it's gone, what had it meant ?
              .             *.             *

So I shake their hands and take my leave
Wait for the phone call I'm supposed to receive
That is going to tell me how
I'll be spending my life from now