NOTE: This is the result of being woken up by your father's voice. O.o Awkward.
Whistlin' the same familiar
tune
as his Marlboro swings from
corner to corner.
That little indigo cap
he places on his head -
agein' like his rustin' bike
that creaks uphill.
My weary ol' Chucks'll do
if I want to catch a glimpse
of his
morning Sun-hidden face.
Do you think he'll notice me
followin' him 'round Croydon?
Whistlin' along to his tune
and breathin' in that Marlboro?
