Tyler R. Martin
Go out don’t get arrested,
Go out and get real drunk.
Rocking to The Clash in your black leather,
Calling yourself a punk.
Then wake up in the morning,
Shave your face and comb your hair,
Shower early the next morning,
Tightening a tie with some “flair”.
It’s the one your mother bought you,
The one with a red black hue,
Then bathe in some cologne,
On Mondays this is what you do.
Then once more it’s a Friday,
You’re leaving work at five,
To once more imbibe imported beer
At the club called “IT’S ALIVE!”
You repeat this on Saturday
And on Sunday night too,
Back to the office on that Monday
‘Cause this is what you do.