A Routine Day

It started off a routine day I got through the morning in the usual way I caught the bus on time Good morning, Mr. Driver, drive As I sat inside my overcoat I clutched my cane And pressed my nose against the foggy window pane Ho hum The life I lead would even make a dead man yawn Midday comes I break for lunch With my sandwich and a beer I go on a hunch To the park where I hope to find A little bit of peace of mind As I sat there on a bench amidst the rodent race I felt a strange sensation that without a trace appeared But then as quickly disappeared again So tell me what's the bloody point of playing the game With so much to lose yet so little to gain You sell your life away Can't you see you're just a cog working like a dog You trade your future for a dead-end job That's full of routine days Routine days I race the clock to the end of my day The paycheck in my pocket makes me feel okay But was it worth the grind Just to keep from falling behind I stand here in the queue behind a foul cigar My face discreetly buried in a book on Mars Humdrum And I'm waiting on the pier 'til Charon comes