Me & the fat man

Me & the fat man, not a santa
my last ever paid job
me & the fat man walking all over
packing up the shit I had in my desk
he tells me that I’m a dangerous man
to have about
is why he’s there to escort me around
leave the building
he’s being as pleasant as he can be
for a man with a thankless task
he recognises he says I’m not the kind
come to your house late after dusk
kill you the missus, kids, not forget the dog
I’m much worse than that
y’ask too many questions he opines
asking why, why do we do things the way
that we do, to do what?
why do we do this in that way
when we could do that
its sedition he thinks out loud
you’re not like the rest of us
yours is a schism in the harmony
we here are trying to build
while I’m shrugging my shoulders
stuffing stuff into my bag
I guess he feels he’s trying
in his way to waken me
paint some picture I can see
it is not a vision that works
in any way but to make me agree
I was wasted amongst the sleepers here


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