Roses are sweet
like a girl's lips
after she tastes
squeezed lime
I've had a few
too many pints
and I feel like
a bloody bard
Don't know if it's good
I assume it's not bad
not like I'll remember much
when I'll have
a hangover.
The lights are shining bright
The streets are glimmering
with hope and filth
The cobblestones,
drenched in cold alcohol
spewed with warm cocktails
and roasted with gluten.
I see so many females
barely walking,
holding on to their friends,
on to their heels
as they try to pin down
their low-cut skirts.
Yet another night
without action.
But my pavement
looks immaculate.
No bumpy roads
No broken stones
Just me
and the next pub
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