Time to Go

Today is the day of my job interview
To be the head guy up at ICI
But I'm sitting in my pants, eating crisps
And I'm sticking sweet junk into my thigh.
Yes, I know it could be my lucky break.
Might be the last chance that I get to take.
Everybody keeps telling me so.
I guess I'd better straighten out and go.


My first day on the pro snooker circuit
(Alas, the gig at ICI fell through).
I'm sat on my floor with the screaming abdabs.
Judd Trump must be wondering where I've got to.
I haven't shaved in months and I look weird -
I've just found a cheese toastie in my beard.
I could burn my waistcoat and dicky bow
But I guess I should smarten up and go.


My life is behind me now, so I'm told.
The morning of my funeral has dawned.
Church filled with friends and folks, both young and old,
It's quite touching to see how I am mourned
But I really haven't got the time to die,
I've only just got myself organised.
The pallbearers lift me up. Time to go.
With one final sigh, I go with the flow.

B.R. 13/01/2013