My keyboard’s very dusty on my desk
There’s bits of fluff and specs from god knows when
All stuck between the keys where you can’t get
To with your fingertips or with your pen.
I wish I had one of those things, you know,
Those tiny hoovers that you sometimes see.
I’d run the nozzle up and down the rows
Between the numberpad and function keys.
But then, I could just turn it upside down
And slap the back and jiggle it about…
I’ve seen that done before, but then, I’ve found
The desk gets dirtied when the dust falls out,
A grey duvet of dead skin cells and hair,
The sheddings of your keystruck love affair.