He wakes up in his bed-sit flat in south London
It's in a rough part of town his place is down trodden
He looks at the photo of her on his wall
Since she's gone he just wants to end it all
But he has not got the bottle to do it
Never has, never will he's just talking sh1t
Looks in the mirror, tie, suit and collar cuffs on his sleeve
The clock on the wall tells him he has to leave
Travel into town miserable faces accompany him
Thinking in his head that in life something is missing
Whilst going up the escalators
He mingles with the city haters
Greed gets them out of bed
And it will be greed that will make them dead
But he doesn't care, looking in the reflection adjusting his hair
‘She left you cause you worked too much'
‘She missed your warm and loving touch'
‘We all need to work that is true'
‘But sometimes we have to give back some love too'
He blocks that little voice out
But deep down he can hear it shout
It is a booming voice one he can't flee
As it echoes in his ears, ‘here comes the donkey.'