The Good Years

I'm walking into town

To get drunk

I look in a window

There stands a middle aged man

Middle aged, middle life, middle class, middle everything

Exceptional nothing

He sands the window frames in the spare bedroom

Just worked a forty-five hour week

At a job he pretends not to hate

And this is how he spends his Friday night

But you know

As they say

He's 'living the dream'

'Good job', 'good kids', 'good wife', 'good life'

It's all shit

And that's where I'm expected to be

In fifteen years

When I 'make it'

No one tells you at high school

That this is what it feels like to be twenty-four

Is this really it?

Is this really why I spent four years at university?

Am I supposed to feel like this?

Like shit

Prozac nation

Addicted to everything that dulls existence

The futility is crushing

As are their fucking lies

I want my money back

Because dollars and cents

Are the only worthy thing I've invested in this world

Apparently

We were told things were meant to be good

It's a fucking rort

The bullies don't grow up

They just get older

And if they get rich

We can't line up quick enough

To get shat on

Keep up with Mr and Mrs Jones

Or die a miserable death

Surrounded by last years appliances

I'm standing at the lights

By the highway now

Cuba and Karo

Three cars pass

Every second

The thought crosses my mind

To just step out

Into the light

Just to feel something

Some kind of emotion

Like hope

It's all shit

I have become

Uncomfortably numb