A hell of a wet day, and windy too
Came home, got dry, did ironing and cooked tea
Then spoke to Carla, still both trying to
Forget and also remember the sea
Of empty chairs, and space, no faces, the
Absolute shithouse that was the Lymm gig
And some shitters were there too - comedy
Produces them aplenty, there's no big
Change there, they form their gangs, or they arse-lick
The promoter, act as agent for you
Do all the work, then you so lazily
Do your usual routine. Not me, I stick
To my guns, fall down if need be, get through
But I need more gigs. Where they gonna be?
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