Billy although your head hurts and your busted heart's turned blue.
Your brain flew out of the window back in 1972.
Smells don't seem the same no more since Momma sacked the cook,
And all your favorite menus locked in Fanny Craddock's book.
How you hated Mondays and those four same days to come.
When man machine refused to laugh except for something done.
Cheese and onion pasties start to push out from your ears.
Suits came round to close you down and rule your future years.
Smoulder in your armchair before the sacred screen,
Where fashion conscious families show you how to keep so clean.
With hands as soft as petals and teeth as white as snow,
Pushing for an answer but be sure to wash and go.
Billy's pushing 50 now his kids have grown away,
His wife sleeps on the outside and her weight has gone astray.
Does the candle start to flicker? Has the sparkle lost it's shine?
Billy seems to think so as he dangles from the line.