A Life at the Living
Here we go again, another day,
Much like the day before,
Much like tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Leading on to evermore.
So here we go again, along the way –
At least we know the score,
As neither happiness nor sorrow,
But the daily drills that bore.
It shouldn’t be like this, we know,
This life, it shouldn’t be like this,
But where did all our future go,
With so few larks to reminisce ?
We cursed how Sundays crept so slow,
Now years of them have been and gone,
With precious little work to show –
Just what the hell was going on ?
I guess we had a time or two –
I bet we did, in all that time,
In all the endless pantomime,
We must have done what young folk do.
But things have settled down, of course,
Along the way, we’ve settled down
In quiet suburbs out-of-town,
And joined the lonely labour force.
And here we go again, another day,
Just like the year before,
Just like the way we always swore
We’d never let become this grey.
But we were young and so naive
To think that we were special then,
To never lose and never grieve –
Till slowly if turned into when.
It shouldn’t be like this, we know,
This life. It needn’t be like this.
If we can just recall the bliss
Before the endless status quo.
If only for a moment, let us play
Upon a Sunday slow –
Tomorrows and tomorrows come and go,
But now is still today.
Rhyming Couplets 