Living out of bags thrown on the floor
Different numbered doors on every tour
Rolling up my baccy to release the stress
These band days are over, oh what a mess
Loading amps from Orange onto a Marshall 
Setting up the phone, the singer a two-timing rascal
Soon to hit the papers, from The Sun and onto the Fleet
Pregnancy is something you just can't keep discreet 
The rows will soon tear this love apart 
Now kipping on the bus where the guy's belch and often ****
These days will soon be over, give me my kids and a day in the park 
As life on the road could soon be a non-start
Just one more tour
A quick line to secretly score
As years of carrying this load really has left me quite sore

Roadie

JJB