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Poem	let's all go to the party friends where left over bottles and stale fag-ends are proudly on offer from the last time round and our hosts believe by a ritual sound fine spirits will flow and new cellophane wrappers will tingle the fingers of eligible clappers let's all ignite at the party friends and burn with the best of the latest trends which prove that the world is a running sore whose plight can't be laid at this party's door so let us look deep in our empty glasses and puff short of breath at the weaker classes whose salvation must lie in a further imbibing of the rush of hot air this party's prescribing let's all depart from the party friends and seek other ways of making amends for the mess that we're all in up to our noses let's kick the conviction the party is moses with tablets worth taking for any condition while the world holds its breath for the big collision let's kick off the hangovers all parties swear is part of the bargain f or breathing free air and dare to be lost and risk being found in the springs that are cracking the crust of dead ground and when we're all shot of the parties friends maybe then odd beginnings will perk up from dead ends
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