Nobody Else’s Man

 

Insteada livin’ on my own
I coulda been a system clone
With two point four kids and a wife,
A mortgage and a job for life;
I coulda slaved from nine to five
And swallowed all that Tory jive
About how everyone must work,
And anyone who dont’s a jerk.

I coulda lived with discipline
Believin’ anarchy’s a sin,
Insteada Descartes’ Demon, I
Could wallow in the Christian lie.
I coulda had a gauge of wealth,
Certificate of mental health,
And all the other fuckin’ crap
That goes with the conformist trap.

I coulda learned to socialise,
Be nice to people I despise,
Called scum heroes, and judges sir,
Crawled like a snake, cowed like a cur,
I coulda said my daily prayers
And blissfully been unawares
Of those who organise the race
That keeps us suckers in our place.

I coulda, but I didn’t.

So what have I to show instead?
Bad reputation, screwed up head,
A niche on skid row, well, almost:
Unwelcome guest and no one’s host,
A life of hurt and misery,
A man nobody wants to see,
But pain like mine I’d rather bear
Than your euphoric fucking air.

Booze, cash or God, I worship none,
What vexes you’s what I call fun,
I dress the way I want to dress,
Don’t rush about, so don’t feel stress;
There’s plenty things give me the hump,
But I jump when I want to jump;
A filofax I do not crave;
I’m lean, but you’re a fattened slave.

So go ahead, work overtime,
Choke on your poxy gin and lime,
Serve the machine, do as you’re told,
And win yourself a crock of gold,
But when decades hence you’re retired
To count the spoils you so desired,
Ask yourself: Do you give a toss
For this vacuous dung and dross?

Then look back at the time that’s gone:
The senseless things that turned you on;
Your whole life has been work and drink:
I couldn’t live with such a stink,
Because although I’ve got sod all
I’m at no man’s or vice’s call,
And pain like mine I’d rather bear
Than your euphoric, fucking air.

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