Another suburban family morning.
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Grandmother screaming at the wall.
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We have to shout above the din of our Rice Crispies
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We can't hear anything at all.
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Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration,
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But we know all her suicides are fake.
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Daddy only stares into the distance
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There's only so much more that he can take.
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Many miles away something crawls from the slime
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At the bottom of a dark Scottish lake.
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Another industrial ugly morning
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The factory belches filth into the sky.
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He walks unhindered through the picket lines today,
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He doesn't think to wonder why.
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The secretaries pout and preen like cheap tarts in a red light street,
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But all he ever thinks to do is watch.
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And every single meeting with his so-called superior
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Is a humiliating kick in the crotch.
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Many miles away something crawls to the surface
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Of a dark Scottish lake.
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Another working day has ended.
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Only the rush hour hell to face.
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Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes.
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Contestants in a suicidal race.
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Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance,
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He knows that something somewhere has to break.
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He sees the family home now looming in the headlights,
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the pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache.
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Many miles away there's a shadow on the door
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Of a cottage on the shore
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Of a dark Scottish lake...............
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-----------------
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Synchronicity II
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| The Police |
