I lost my job through the agency
I’m sick of this insecurity
Have you seen Quadrophenia? I was just like Jimmy
Except he was a teenager and I’m over thirty

I lost my job through the agency
I’ve been crushed by the wheels of industry
The missing beat in the machine’s relentless syncopation
Caught offside in a 40:30:30 formation

If you’re dropping out of the loop, touch base so we keep onside
I tried the language on, but they didn’t have my size
I am bamboozled by bollockspiel in an alien tongue
Experience should have taught me that I wouldn’t be here for long

When the trainer uttered the words that all the office workers dread
‘Just a little bit of fun.’ Who for? The bored and the brain dead
I’m stood out at the front in a shitty catalogue suit
When he says, “You’re personality resembles which kind of fruit?”
“My name is Sam Gregory, you know me as the Vicar
My name is Sam Gregory and I resemble a banana
There’s a serious point I’d like to make before you move to dismiss me.”
“But you’re a self-confessed banana, how do you expect to be taken seriously”
Forever playing the stooge in some redundant, absurdist farce
I told them that they could take their job and shove it up their arse

So I’m a man with no name in a town full of not rights
My identity’s subsumed in fear and bitterness and spite
Never been a member of coterie, cabal or clique
I’m alone, on my own, your misanthropic neighbourhood freak

I watched a documentary
About a monk from the sixteenth century
Bollock-naked on a moor, self-flagellated
When he feared that his love for God had abated
I imagined myself doing the same in the city
Enduring the scorn from a town without pity

But then to the Siren, the devotion she incited
I never doubted myself once or that my love would be unrequited
She looked exactly like Myra from ‘The Grifters’ would
If she drank too much taboo and she came from Grangewood
She never took me seriously, just pouted and took the piss
Still I longed to be the recipient of her resuscitating kiss

Like a noose flapping on gallows, the pub sign swings
‘Leaving Chesvegas’, the dirge the threnodist sings
I’m going to drink until my arse bleeds
Gonna drink until it hurts
Gonna drink until my body is laid down beneath the dirt

I walk in and the barmaid with the Vera Duckworth perm
Takes my order,calls me love, but it means nothing, it’s just a term
Piped music, ‘She’s Like the Wind’ and other unmentionable cheese
And I’m feeling a bit peckish, crisps, prawn cocktail please
Then a voice from down the bar, “Hark at this cunt with his hors d’oeuvres”
People laughing, just pick up the crisps, head down and body swerves

Try and find a seat, I spy Al Smyth, in the corner, the drunken sage
Carefree, makes me wonder, how does he manage to disengage
I tell him, “I’m pushing rocks
Just to watch them roll back down
A man with no name
In a forgotten, not-right town

He says, “Of course you’re pushing rocks
Accept it and embrace it
Laugh in the face of absurdity
It’s the only way you’ll face it”
With these words of wisdom
I settle for a session in the afternoon
I don’t get to play chess with death
But I’m sure to lose at pontoon

Lose some money, get kicked out
For being pissed as a newt
Lurch forward, start the search
For a Siren substitute

In the shop, furtive movements, shiftyfingers, full of stealth
Eyes darting back and forth as I move toward the top shelf
Then a bloke walks in, bold as brass, an expensive, executive suit
Picks up a mag and pays, his conviction is absolute

He makes it look so easy
Buying a house, a car, earning corn
Makes it look so fucking easy
Wearing a suit and buying porn

And I’m thinking, “just buy any
Copy him, don’t make a fuss”
And I grab one, start walking
Look down, the banner reads ‘60 Plus’

And I panic, drop it
Turn and knock a greeting card carousel
Then I’m staring face to face at a brand new shape from hell
A shop assistant, glowering
Like a gestapo grass in a tabard
And I’m thinking ‘Why do I always make life look so fucking hard’
Drop the pretence, after all, she knows exactly what I’m after
Pick up another, pay the money, depart to mocking laughter

Get back home and play the tape
‘Song to the Siren’ on a loop
Look at the mag, toss it on the floor
Put it down to brewer’s droop

Then I’m up and out, just drifting
The Siren’s anthem as my guide
And I’m standing, staring, waiting
When the two mantras collide

I’m Alone and I’m outside your house
You’ll never swim to me, I’ll never enfold you
I’m alone and I’m outside your house
I could wait all night, I’ll never hold you

I’m alone and I’m ringing on your bell
A supplicant pleading that you’ll ring mine as well
I’m alone, you open up your door
The giggle, the knowing wink, does it mean you know the score?

I’m alone, in the entrance there’s a poster
Tells you what to expect, at least I think that it’s supposed to
‘No-one Gets Out of Here Alive’ and a crucifix pose
But over the face, another image has been superimposed

Dick Emery in drag, squatting on Morrison’s face
I’m alone and I’m inside your place
I know you think I’m awful, do you still like me?
I’m alone and I’m inside your place
From the sneer on you face, I think that that’s unlikely

I pass the tape, “it’s for you, a memento for mon amour”
She says, “Vicar. No-one plays these anymore”
Tosses it casually across the floor
I stand and stare at the tape beneath her clear high-heeled stiletto
My final message, gone, but I was ignored right from the get go

I’m alone, hurt and rage halted by a turning key
And then a voice, “I’m gonna crush you like a bug”
It’s directed at me
I’m alone, is this the end?
I wanted it, buit not like this
I’m alone, now’s the time for that resuscitating kiss

I’m alone and now I’m in the zone
Focus on nothing but the imminent, brutal crack of boot on bone
My bone, my soon to be broken bone
I’m alone, And the voice says

Get up and take it like a man
You limp dick

I lost my job through the agency
I’ve been crushed by love and industry
The resuscitating kiss remains just an illusion
In hospital, I’m the recipient of a blood transfusion

I lost my job through the agency
I’m trapped pushing rocks for eternity
Love and work religion and alcohol
In the absence of something to believe in
This absurd life takes its toll