At the bus stop on Praed Street
Just arrived on the train
Awaiting the  bus, in drizzly rain

On the opposite side
Outside Paddington station
Is the evidence that we are a fast food nation

Burger King, Le gourmet brasserie, Chelsea deli, KFC, Subway, La Taarza cafe, Bagel factory, Costa, Chicken cottage, Bonne Bouch, Victors cafe
I can't see much more
But there are further food stores

We must be obsessed
With coffee and food
Can this be good?

Our waist lines are growing
Our pockets are empty
Yet there's fast food a plenty

There must be a market
They are filling a need
Is it our laziness or greed?

On the escape from Paddington station
Up the ***** to Praed Street
I enter the daily wall of smoke
Rushing into my lungs
Choking a little life out of me
Until I emerge the other side
And run for my bus

Approaching the office, dragging my feet
The smart revolving doors
Lined by little puffs of smoke
Strategy defined on *** packets
Secret discussions I'll never know
My expensive perfume replaced with a new one
As I enter the lift

It's safe in the pub, if a little chilly
The air is clear, despite the odour of stale beer
But it's warm outside, where the smokers sit
And I'm jealous of their fun
I watch them laughing, sunglasses on
I too, could soak up the sun
But I think I'll stay in here