The Beach

I’m caught up in a funk

A sort of bad disease

It’s brought me to my knees

My head’s so full of junk

My brain is in a freeze

A cryogenic squeeze

 

Cos I’m stuck here in this hell’

Working for the man

In a 9 – 5 jam

I’m just a hollow shell

Doing all I can, got

A computer screen tan

 

I’m working through a haze

No chance of any rest

In an existential mess

Stuck here in a daze

Trying to do my best

I’m a zombie suffering stress

 

A slave to all my debts

I’ve lost all sense of time

It’s an unrecorded crime

I need to clear the decks

Give myself a lift

Cut myself adrift

 

This place is like a jail;

No-one cares and that’s for sure

They just want more and more

But I just wanna bail

Get right out the door

I think you know the score

 

I need the beach

I need the waves

I need the sun

I need the sand

I need the wine

I need the fun

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon)

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