when you can't find the words
and you can't find the time
and your feet weight heavy
and you're on your last dime
and the darkness is yours
and your poem won't chime
and every hill that you face
is a hill you must climb
and your only hope
is a world of crime
but you're much too old
and you're way past your prime
and your poem won't rhyme
and your world don't chime
is a hill you must crime
is a way past your climb
and you're on your last time
and you can't find the slime
try and crawl from the grime
cos your world won't dime
and your words don't rhyme
cos your world won't chime
have you got enough time
for a tonic and lime
mix a blend so sublime...
...then you run out of rhyme
