People have weird dreams,

‘tis all I’m saying,

not making assumptions

but if my dreams are anything to go by,

that holiday home in the South

of France, sipping shelled grapes

and eating croissants for breakfast,

that expensive car, worth more

than the house they live in,

and still only capable of

listening to Classic F.M.

when the signal is weak;

they say, Living the dream,

I daren’t tell them mine,

having been seduced by glamour’s women

on my worn out sofa,

Hollywood starlet, fighting