As I sit in an office and take people in
Robot sardines packed into a tin
It’s striking how few people really stand out
As for genuine craic, there’s a terrible drought.
Yet surely these people have lives of their own
Whether living it up, or living alone
Maybe they have families, living in bliss
Give their robot wives a robot kiss
I’m aware that in work people tend to play down
The fact that they might be a ‘man about town’
Any interesting secrets are kept under wraps
Safe from sideways glances from god fearing chaps
In a room of one hundred there should easily be
Forty affairs and the odd divorcee
At least three of these people are terminally ill
And a few have secretly popped the odd pill
I refuse to believe that nobody here
Has been hospitalised through consumption of beer
But if inwardly people are how they appear
To appear as they do is my ultimate fear.
gtoner
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