Mood:  caffeinated

It’s been a long night for the lady in blue,

Her dress has frayed and she has broken her shoe.

The man in the jacket with the grass stains on his arms,

Has fallen unconscious resting his drunken charms.

There is vomit on her face, it reflects in the streetlight.

Her screeches and obscenities are insufficiently polite.

He stands and slumps against the lady in blue

And strokes her hair and runs his fingers through.

But then he stands and urinates against the tree,

Over aimed and, oh God, pisses on her dignity

How can this not jolt her into understanding?

That this is, in effect, an emotional crash landing.

Look down on yourselves you bewildering wrecks

Bodies filled with cider, vodka and unprotected sex.

You can’t speak without fuck, bastard, wanker or cunt,

Mixed with syllables more undignified than an animals grunt.

But who are we to say you are all immoral creatures.

We are no Gods, no saviours or bible-bashing preachers.

Perhaps after all the psychologists have got it wrong,

It’s not a defiant performance it’s where we all belong.

This is no escape from the prison of existence.

It is the genuine foundation of active subsistence.

The whole point of it is to get unreservedly drunk,

Collapse and fall then get fucked up an old tree trunk.

You two won’t regret what you have done tonight,

It will give you a laugh to muse over with sober insight.

It will happen again and again every Saturday week,

Have a kebab, have a fuck and get too drunk to speak.