Barmaid's Bra

Get out of bed then into bed, and in between get out yer 'ead. And round the shop and round the bend, and tea 'n' toast and bore your friend. Then in the pub and at the bar, a hand inside the barmaid's bra and never leave until it shuts and stagger home and spew yer' guts.
Then takeaway and video and too loud on the stereo. And seedier and greedier, and rant about the media. Then waking up and want to fuck and all alone and out of luck. And pillow soaked in what you drank. You've got the horn so have a wank! Then try to sleep but stay awake And feel your brain and body ache. And every hope of sleep is gone, get up and put the telly on. Then off to work or on the dole, Or can't find the remote control. And pissed off with your lonley life. Or 'Love the kids, but hate the wife'. Then down the bank and pay the rent, and wonder what she really meant, and wonder will she go away, if you get drunk again today. But back to basics back to bed and close your eyes and rest your head and dream about the barmaid's tits and awake cold and still in bits. You fight for breath, YOUR killer cough, and money talks, it say's 'FUCK OFF!' And round the shop and round the bend, and 'JESUS WHERE'S MY FUCKING FRIEND?'
Paul