bay breeze froth
and the barmaid’s pretty nails
I’ll never feel their caress
it’s another Saturday night
at the sports bar
jukebox playing
the soundtrack to
hell
I shuffle my thoughts
like playing cards
hoping to draw an ace
I can’t figure why Cindy’s gone
and I’d like to bum a cigarette
but nobody smokes anymore
I know that cause wretched Wendy
texted me it
when I was trying to fuck her
I’d like to shatter my hand on my glass
show ‘em a real Bloody Mary
haven’t got the nerve to talk to anyone
uninterested in the muted soccer game
on the TVs
they’re throwing darts
like they always do
think I’ll go stand in front of the bullseye
