The Monday morning silence
Of the usually pulsing town
Is humbled by the reliance
Of its people all around
Most operate like clock work
As they get on with their day
Bank manager, teller and clerk
They are the usual in their usual way
The weekend vibe is a measured science
The streets were full of vigour
But now only the sound of silence
Nothingness seems so much bigger
So why am I any different?
Aren’t I just another cog?
I too feel daily imprisonment
But don’t underestimate the underdog
These Woking streets that I live upon
Always continue to surprise
If you’re down you get down trodden
Keep reaching up for the up rise
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