The terms were eight weeks long, all told -
Too short to let them quite unfold
And so through all the summer days
We gently felt the mass malaise.
The evenings just went on and on
The people who'd been there had gone
And left a group who don't belong
But was it just a phase?
Or so down to the bar we'd fly
To give the night another try -
The groups fresh out of formal hall
Who cared not who was in at all
Would chat in groups of long-held clique
And others of like mind would seek;
The nights replayed six times a week
A-staring at the wall.
Or maybe give it one last go
To drop around and say hello
And see if anyone therein
Would care since last time where you'd been
Although you knew that friend they meet
Would turn to something more concrete
And send you back into the street,
"Just friends" well wearing thin.
Another night with nothing run
Ends finally as it begun -
The lights from all the rooms shine out;
The reason people aren't about.
Some music drifts from off CD
For friends around for cups of tea
To give the state of fixed ennui
That still exists without.
And so that juncture where we say
Tomorrow is another day -
Let's give ourselves a big surprise
And something different organise.
We'll not leave chances 'till too late
And get ourselves in such a state
And leave a little less to fate...
Same place tomorrow, guys?