Night is young
No song been sung
fate is ready
hands still steady
bottles to come
dozens and some
drinks to flow
cigars to blow
fires to glow
fast or slow
hours to spare
drinks disappear
hands now tremble
mind slightly ramble
not sure of place
earth or space
silk or lace
pure blank face
walking in race
back to the base
nothing is certain
hit random curtain
open and shut
talk and strut
red blue screens
white coats seen
where I am
where I have been
hospital in seems
bruised and cut
brain in rut
pain in the butt
no laughing matter
can’t do better
see you later
certainly
same pub
different night
ready for
another fight
I meant flight,
tongue’s slight
Nothing is right
must have taken
some substance light
Yesterday, today
Hmm…
I am not sure anymore