Routine Poem by Gary Diamond

I get bored of routine.
People who like their house too clean.
I prefer a bit of mess.
I prefer a place with a little hair on it's chests.

The ad's on your television are telling you that bacteria is all bad.
The fact you believed them, hook and line, is a little sad.
I prefer to take my chances.
I prefer a place where the old dirt speaks of previous songs and dances.

I get bored of real life.
The mundane and neccesary.
It's a lot more fun to have character, you know.
Rather than try and sweep all the dirt away.

I was always suspicious of those kinds of people.
If they're so obssesed with these rituals, they must be hiding something.
Do they think by purging their dwelling of dust and stain
They can make their neurotic soul all clean again?

Yes. Routine.
Routine.
And more Routine.

It's enough to drive a man or woman over the edge.
Because no matter how hard you clean.
The dust and dirt is still there somewhere.
You just haven't...
Found it yet.

But you will.