Tomorrow I’ll stop shirking and get down to steady working
It’s a nice idea of course, and yet I doubt it
My domestic life is just about to crumble into dust
But I can’t be arsed to do a thing about it
Looking round me in despair, I’m convinced this isn’t fair
And it’s nothing like the life I’d been expecting
It’s a terrible debacle, ‘cos for every job I’d tackle
There’s a hundred other things I’d be neglecting
I’m surrounded by a host of things I ought to treasure most
They require an awful lot of TLC
I can feel my spirits sinking as I sit here, sadly thinking
Shouldn’t someone else be doing this, not me?
Shouldn’t someone sympathetic, organised and energetic
Come and boldly take the line of most resistance?
I’m a poet and a thinker, born to dream and not to tinker
With the nuts and bolts of everyday existence
Yes, it leaves a nasty taste, it’s a dreadful, shocking waste
Of the talent that’s been given me by God
Am I right to feel a grudge at this unrelenting drudgery
Or am I just a lazy little sod?
Will Hames, November 2008