To give you some context, this is something I wrote during my quiet time as an RAF clerk.
Friday On My Mind
27/6/94
(C) By R. P. Daley
It’s Nine a.m on Monday and they’ve chained me to my desk,
‘Cos I did no work last week; so today I’m doing less.
And I’m screaming for my lunch break but it’s only just gone ten,
So I have to wait two hours and I’m screaming louder then.
See me bimble back from lunchtime; like I just don’t wanna start,
Someone said “Do Nothing“; so I took that to heart.
It’s ten past two on Tuesday and even now I find,
I’m waiting for the weekend with Friday on my mind.
And five o’clock feels far away; But I’m still sitting here,
So I’m dreaming of the NAAFI and I dream another beer.
It’s way past one on Wednesday; The middle of the week,
I’d like to ask for stand-down but I don’t have the cheek.
It’s five to six on Thursday and I’m still in my room,
The working day it looms ahead; like rain clouds bringing gloom.
It’s eight-fifteen on Thursday and now I’m on my way,
My body has to go to work but in my mind I play.
It’s ten p.m on Thursday night; I’m drinking in the Bop,
My right hand keeps on raising beers; my liver screaming “STOP!”
It’s eight o’clock on Friday, another duty clerk,
My head is screaming “Never again!“, my features looking stark.
Is the week now really over; or has it just begun?
I’m stuck in here ’til five o’clock and it’s only turning one.
Remember there are two years left, since on the line I signed,
Another two years spent this way; with freedom on my mind.
The End.
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