Poetry, its just whiskey and piss
and there’s more to life than this,
it’s a taxi cab at zero three thirty
then showering off the ink stained bliss.
Its nods and winks and after gig drinks
life in the doldrums with sails unfilled,
Waterloo sunset minus The Kinks
it’s “Kill Bill” where no-one gets killed
Its unnecessary profanity when you can’t make a rhyme
it’ll get you locked up where they’ve made it a crime,
it fades on the page, its Dorian Gray
it hides in the attic and fades away.