There is a wastrel man that lives next door,
He is not rich, neither is he poor.
His house is sturdy, large and strong,
But surrounded in garbage, which is awfully wrong.
This man doesn’t work, in fact I don’t think he can,
He hurt his back working for “the man”.
So, he feeds himself on Centerlink bills,
And pops all kinds of pain killing pills;
As I patiently wait for him to die,
So, they’ll remove his rubbish that is polluting my sky.