At 9:43 in the morning Seven days of every week He sits waiting on the doorstep For the man who brings the keys To taste the free eye opener And shake the demons free
He clears the bar of glasses Takes out bags of bottles Cleans the filthy bathroom Sweeps the dusty floor Then sits on a barstool listening For knocking on the door
It’s the functioning alcoholics Impatient for that first double To open up their day, Provide them with false courage, And chase the shakes away
Soon they’re all on barstools With a few shots down the hatch They talk of sports and politics Opinions all spun to match Each point made is redundant A plaintive echo from the past
The Day Man sits in a corner, His drinks and two eggs are free The owner’s buying his tomorrow To clean up tonight’s debris He glances at the Day Man But a drunk is all he sees
He room’s above a dance school The music rises through the floor Self pity dances by in every recollection He lays bricks in a self made prison Drinking toasts to his own reflection And slides closed the cell room door
All his life his will has failed him But tonight will be different, they’ll see He’ll mix bourbon with pills and sorrow Sufficient to break him free Relief will come tomorrow, Before the owner can use his key
At 9:43 the next morning, it’s 34 degrees He’s found sitting against the doorway By the man who brings the keys No need of bourbon doubles The demons are no longer trouble The Day Man has broken free