Morning peace dusty air Clean your teath and comb your hair Dressed in clothes you always wear Go to work I won't be there Lunchtime snackbar eating chips Ketchup's running down your lips Deadeyed waiters selling bibs Which you have to fix with clips Sitting waiting find an end Meaningless with no comment Is this life in your own hand People are like grains of sand Pick up streets and pull down skylines Ravish women blast the mines Burn the whiskies spill the wines Find beginnings stop these lines