Monday morning hurts like hell
Put on a smile, no one can tell

Papers got nothing to say
Radio says, have a nice day

Crawl to work, slow off the draw
Pretend I care bout what’s in store

Eternal torture shaped like a desk
Fleeting relief as I check my txt's

Fat cat boss, at the top of the tree
Collects up crap to dump on me

Don’t even like Mine sweeper or Solitaire
Could give a toss about the latest office affair

Skive off and find a good place to hide
My will to lives curled up and died.

A taste of freedom, breathe the air
It’s Sunday morning, I don’t care

A deep feeling there should be more
What do we have all these years for?

Depends on me, what will it be
Explore the world in poverty

Build myself a world of gold
Or expand my mind before I’m old

But it’s coming, it’s looming, the worlds turning grey

I won’t leave this bed, nothing you can say

Monday morning hits like a train
And I’m back in hell again

@ruffedgebooks