hideout

Time to Fuck the Dog!!!

If you know, you know.

Everybody’s lookin’ busy… except one bloke.

Clock hits six and the pre-start’s done,

Supervisor says, “Alright boys, let’s run.”

Everyone scatters, boots hit the ground,

I’m already thinkin’, “Where’s the best hideout found?”

Behind the crib hut, outta plain sight,

Radio turned down, she’ll be right.

KFC Hard hat on, lookin’ like I’m on patrol,

But I’m just scrollin’ through my phone, that’s the goal.

Found the hideout, no one knows,

Disappearin’ like a ghost where the cool wind blows.

Crew’s flat out, I’m nowhere around,

Best-kept secret on the whole drill ground.

If the boss rolls past, I pick up a broom,

Look busy for a minute, then back to my room.

By knock-off time I’m clean as can be,

Like I worked all day—but it wasn’t me.

Hear the UHF callin’, “Where’s he gone?”

I don’t answer back till the moment’s gone.

Walk out stretchin’ like I carried the load,

Boots still cleaner than the access road.

“Been checkin’ gear,” that’s the usual line,

Somehow it works almost every time.

Then I nod real serious, scratch my chin,

Like I’ve been solving problems since the shift kicked in.

One eye on the boss, one eye on the clock,

Waitin’ for the call that it’s time to knock.

Everyone laughs ‘cause they know the game,

Every site’s got one—they’re all the same.

Found the hideout, king of the shade,

Avoidin’ hard yakka like a well-earned trade.

When the whistle blows, I’m first to the gate,

“Long day, boys…”—yeah, sure mate.

So here’s to the legends who know the routine,

Masters of disappearing, keepin’ boots clean.

Just a bit of banter, don’t take it to heart,

Tomorrow we’ll all be back… pretending to start.