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Thank God it's Friday. Now the weekend starts. He's off to have a few beers with his friends. As he leaves his desk he quickly departs As the work-a-day world comes to an end. His friends, already there when he arrives, Order for him a cool, refreshing mug; They greet each other with some strong high-fives, Though one of them misses; he's such a lug. He likes this bar with its chips and salsa, Which balances the bright and foamy froth; One friend tells him what he thinks of NAFTA, Another that he's dating a girl goth. This place is like a temple where they can retreat And where they can recover from the too long week.