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Titel

Songtekst

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

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