No Rest

Ye would think that livin' in a sin free blissful state, as I am now enjoyin', would be altogether, conflict free. But this mornin', as the wee hours drifted by towards the stouter hours a little song wriggled its way into my sleepy noggin that went somethin' like,

it's four in the mornin', my lala is warnin', the station is beckonin' me, so I rise to seek comfort, and hasten along to, the comfort facility

There was more to that song, but I caint recollect the rest, of it.

So it's all quiet and private at the newly reopened boys comfort station and I am enjoyin' myself and reflectin' on the comparitve aggravation of havin' to go outside and purty soon I'm all finished and I have to put ever'thing back inside the vent and then I head back towards my own little bed.

But I am verily stopped in my tracks, for a clarion call rings out in the night, "Flush the toilet".