The couch is quiet these days
And my alcoholic cousin wants to install a pole
On the other side of the coffee table.
I said to him,
"I'm sorry Tim, this place is for discussions not a gentleman's porn fantasy."
He said to me,
About his girlfriend Bree,
"But she'll bring a proper crowd dancing on that pole and we could sell drinks too."
"No Tim. Get a grip. You're really a triple shot mind trip"
And on that note, swinging and swigging his bottle of Jack,
He left the couch and didn't come back.
But really, where is everybody?
This place needs a bit help, it's somewhat lonely.
Will anyone hear me moan, into fireplace wreathed in stone?
It must be a door, wherever it goes. It smells like someone is baking behind it with Sourdoughs.
Did anyone ever discover that I had slept with Tim's mother,
When she baby sat me
When I was three?
Can you hear me?
Are you out there, listening please.