Life is like an empty pub
Stale smoke and flat ber
dark and dank
with a slight hint of the urinal cake wafting in the air.
It's lost dreams and broken hearts
Staring at your soul in an empty schooner glass
The laughter
The music
all dead.
As quiet as the local on a Sunday night at closing time.
We make our toast and drink to dreams
Then find the glass is empty
And someone left their cigarette butt in the bottom.
You stand there
Alone
Cold
So you drop a cion in the dukebox by the back wall
You ponder the "coulda","shoulda","woulda"s
As in the background Meatloaf screams,
'Life is a lemon and I want my money back'
Where are the dreams now?
Oh what happened to the grandeur of it all?
Ask the urinal cake.
It knows.
It's seen it all just pissed away
You nurse your glass
The wisdom of barman Bill still swimming
Sam gets up and belts out a cheesy tune
that piano is always a little off key
It echos what you feel inside
And so you go there
down the local
on Sunday night near closing Time.
The slight aromatic hint of the urinal cake
dark and dank
stale smoke and flat beer
yeah
Life's like an empty pub
Birth sign: Scorpio
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