Steady Days* Poem by Thistle Wargul

Steady days pass me by,
The same routine that never dies;
Get up, get dressed, go to work,
Come home, eat tea, and go to bed.

I’m stuck here, playing the same life,
Like an old scratched record.
Stuck here, wanting a new life,
Like an old scratched record.

Traffic jams, they get to me,
Cars in the city in complete grid-lock.
Same old story, same old songs,
The radio has got it all wrong.

Sitting in the same office,
The same desk,
The same seat;
It gets to me, this routine,
My never ending tragedy.

I’m stuck here, playing the same life,
Like an old scratched record.
Stuck here, wanting a new life,
Like an old scratched record.

Once in a while, variety,
‘Cos I would like a change in my life,
Before it all fades away;
Fades to grey.

Another time, another place
And I would be here, full of grace
And full of life ‘cos I would have
What I want for me.

I’m stuck here, playing the same life,
Like an old scratched record.
Stuck here, wanting a new life,
Like an old scratched record.

I can’t take it anymore,
It’s driving me mad.
Everything is so alike,
I can’t tell one day from the next.
Week by week I’m dragged down,
In an identical cage.
I’m trapped in a vortex of boredom,
Blurring me life away.

I’m stuck here, playing the same life,
Like an old scratched record.
Stuck here, wanting a new life,
Like an old scratched record.

I’m stuck here….
Like an old scratched record!