I don't think you realise just exactly what it does,
Not just to you but to all of us.
When you are free from IT, you are truly a great guy,
And you're always happy, with a smile as high as the sky.

You find a job, settle in and start to earn a wage,
We are all so proud of you now and in our lives you take centre stage.
And then you'll say 'that's it now, I defo won't go back',
But then you drink excessively and your efforts begin to slack.

Before long we see a different person, the person IT brings out in you,
You become very distant and quite aggressive too.
Then comes the finale, your 'associates' creep back through,
You know the ones you call friends but they are never there for you.

They wouldn't come and visit you in your hospital bed,
In fact they wouldn't give a sh*t if you were lay there dead.
Not like us though Darren, who sit and wait for that sound,
Of the phone or the door when the police call round.

We know exactly what they say, and that is what we dread,
For IT has finally won and they'll tell us that you're dead.
And then how will we cope, what the hell will we do,
Without an UNCLE, SON, FATHER and BROTHER just as special as you.

by Lauren Armstrong

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