whichever way it’s blowing

VERSE 1

Sat through that first lockdown
Trying to keep my career going
Making fire rubbing stones
No lighter fuel, just me blowing

Patience, frustration
Boiling outside and beef with the neighbours
Everyday yet another grief and
Another project cancellation

Making p was hard enough, now
Poison waters in the stream
Gutting out my industry
Gold rush towards live stream

Zoom gigs with latency
Wi-fis unreliable
While everyone’s banging-out Netflix
My focus, on survival

Kept a routine with discipline
Got fit, learned new things
But my head was floating like a balloon
Towards a wall full of drawing pins

Mad moments of doubt kicking in
Had to kick it out and keep kicking on
Outside it was kicking off
Pent up people out of jobs

Anaphylaxis in a hive full of bees
Gave up on nightly news-briefs
Untold conspiracy theories
Unsure now what to believe

Meanwhile I’m trying to get p
Pay my bills and keep it going
But I’m pissing in the wind
Whichever way it’s blowing

CHROUS

Bored, round the house I’m in doors
Another week a new law
A broken record in thought
How long we doing this for?
I’m going mental
So go and boil the kettle
Sit down settle, could be worse
So what you whinging for?

VERSE 2

A mate of my dad’s once told me
That where there’s war, there’s money
There ‘aint a war but in the Amazon
There’s a working poor and they’re on zero hours

Packing parcels, driving vans
Competition now barley stands
High-street now a no-go
Betting shops and pay-day-loans

Saturdays, school holidays
Bop to town back then with your mates
Good times, but what do kids do now?
When they can’t even leave their house?

Encouraged to grass on the neighbours
Old Bill in the local fields
Felt like a dystopian film
But this one was real

I’m looking out the window
Wondering what way the world goes?
Mug of tea in my hand, phone mum and dad
And hold my wife close

Could be worse I guess
Roof on my head wardrobe full of clothes
Say a little prayer and look to the air
Could do with a little dosage of hope

Text Conrad
He said we got to keep going
He’s right, by hook or by crook
I’m sat in this room with a book and it’s open

Minute by minute, day by day
Week by week, set little tasks, and
in ten years time, we get through this
I’ll sit with my wife and raise a glass

CHROUS

Bored, round the house I’m in doors
Another week a new law
A broken record in thought
How long we doing this for?
I’m going mental
So go and boil the kettle
Sit down settle, could be worse
So what you whinging for?