Other Things To Do Poem by Kevin Hulme

Yet another trite day standing at the old Shaving glass,
The dull daily chore for this Morning to last.
The Radio News is all solemn and bleak,
The Standard script for the rest of the week.
And so it hits me quite hard like a Maxim so true,
That i'd rather be away with other things to do.
And so at the Bus Stand for the Wandering Number Eight,
For it's always on time for the turning up late.
The cars roll on ahead all fumes and loud Bass,
And time ticks on by at a Funeral slow pace.
And so it hits me quite hard like a Maxim so true,
That i'd rather be away with other things to do.
The Supermarket line is longer than the Nile,
And we all stand in Boredom as to the Guillotine in file.
The overhead Muzak begins to annoy,
With the Psychological noise that the Bosses employ.
And so it hits me quite hard like a Maxim so true,
That i'd rather be away with other things to do.
From Morning to Night with every job we attend,
The Minute and the Large that the hours do send.
For we all tread along in a routine so dull,
To fill up the day until the diary is full.
And it hits me quite hard like a Maxim so true,
That we'd all rather be away with better things to do.