I miss my life feeling like a bomb.
I miss keeping up with all the goings on.
That life has to offer me in drips and in droves.
I leave all this behind, whenever I come back home.
I sit and I twiddle my thumbs all the day.
Longing for a time when I can stand up and say,
"Mother, oh Father, that time has come back,
time for me to get off my arse and re-pack.
Head back to my manner and be my own boss,
Cheers for the turkey but for now, chaps, I'm off."
It's not that I'm spoiled or even ungrateful.
I enjoy all the free food of which I have platefuls.
I like all the chit chat and fast broadband too,
I'm not trying to say I don't enjoy being near you.
But please understand that after two years alone,
Living amongst those that bicker and moan
That this relative quiet is deafening to me.
And all of the cleanliness that I can see,
Might blind me if I gaze for too long.
So for my own peace of mind it's best that I'm gone.
I'll stick it for Christmas, for New Years too,
After all of my moaning I do still love you,
But I need my own space and I miss my shit bed.
Where after two weeks of the easy life, that's where I'll long to head.