18 April 2012
Well, Terry used to go clubbing at night, He used to cheer on at every gritty fight, Meet girls, go dancing, have a good time, Always drink home-brewed beer over classy wine,
But now he sits in front of the static played over his tv, Fat and balding, never changing his shirt, just sipping his tea, Terry used to go clubbing every night, What could have happened to give him this unhappy,stale life?
Sits in a sofa twenty years out of date, He can't feel, can't hate, Just shouts when he wants food, And then it's microwaved, and made from the crude Bits of pigs and cow pressed together How does he survive, how, oh, how?
Let's his wife cater to his every need, He used to love her, but then his greed Overcame him, no she isn't loved, Just there to get his tea and keep the pillow fluffed.
This young sweetheart, no he never speaks, He's old and fat, just a shell, No personality. Living in hell.
Terry • Opuss № I