Hostel Life
Well, I've roamed the world over many a day,
And a hostel 's the place I generally stay.
Now there's some things about them that's always the same,
It's a worldwide conspiracy, that's what I claim.
'Cause there's always one who stays out till three,
Then turns on the lights 'cause he cannot see.
He smells like a pub and he's usually drunk,
And he steps on your arm when he climbs in his bunk.
And then there's one who leaves pots in the sink,
And when they run out, it's our milk they drink.
They sprawl on the sofas so there's nowhere to sit,
Consideration? Hell, they don't give a ... !
And the worst ones of all, they're really a drag,
Keep every bloody item in a different plastic bag.
Now I've spoken with others, and they feel the same,
We're all considerate and we are not to blame.
So who is this group which disrupts hostel life?
Who stirs us from dreams and causes such a strife?
Now I'm not paranoid, but it's a thought that I've had,
They're all on the payrolls of our mums and our dads.
They follow us around wherever we roam,
Making life miserable so we will all go home.
But the last laugh 's on our loved ones,
And that's fo sure.
Because as for the travel bug,
There is no real cure.
They can torment us and tease us,
But when all's said and done,
In spite of it all, we're still having fun!
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