Metrognome

Time on your hands, you doodle the day. Shuffle your feet, then turn on the news to Hear what they might say. They've made a machine, a new-fangled device. They're lighting the fuse. There's no need to worry, your world will be All right. Time for a smoke, a pint and a joke. You muddle on through, silently screaming, "What can I do?" Till time drags you out, logging about, Blows you away, high as a kite on a Windy day.