January 6: Hi ho, Hi ho, it's off to work we go ...

It’s half past five, I hear a noise, it interrupts my dream

I’m just about to climb onboard, a truck that sells ice cream

I turn away, pretend to sleep, the noise won’t go away

If I could just get to the chocolate chip, it would all be quite okay

An outstretched arm across the bed will surely do the trick

The noise it stops, but there is another, as the second hand it ticks

It just gets louder, tick by tick; the chocolate’s turned to foam

I open my eyes, it disappears, my fantasy has gone

Outside my window, the sky is dark, the room is barely lit

I sit up straight and sit a while, as reality it hits

My peace is over, it’s back to work, another year begins

Another year of listening, to other people’s sins

I buy a weekly, gone up two bucks, I didn’t count on that

And what do I get in return? A train that’s bloody packed

So many people, it’s half past six, don’t these people have a life?

The air is still, the humidity is thick, you could cut it with a knife

Nothing’s changed since last was here; nothing’s changed at all

It’s like I did this yesterday, my phone rings with a call

Express me in to Central please, four stops and I’ll be there

A brisk walk up to Goulburn street, and back into my chair

I stop into my favourite café, strong coffee and some toast

Into the lift and up to thirty, if I lean I see the coast

I remember that, just last week; I was screaming through the bends

In that zone where euphoria starts, and you hope it never ends

But life is full of ups and downs, money makes it spin

I’m fortunate enough I guess, got work to bring it in

At least I don’t mind too much, doing what I do

If my shirt was blue not crispy white, I couldn't see it through

I open up a brand new brief, another importation

Like selling ice to Eskimos, they’re full of expectation

Stopped at Customs, and in a flash, their life goes down the drain

I read for hours, then put it down, and head back to the train

The last three weeks, where did they go, they melt into my mind

It could have been a year ago, that space is undefined

So much to do, so little time, I’m like a bookies clerk

Half past five, on Monday morn, I’m going back to work