Wrong

I staggered down the road looking for skirt I’ve had my drink now time for dessert Bouncing off walls, falling about Eyes going funny about to conk out I get to the door and fall flat on my face Staggering around all over the place The velvet seats and the strange décor I sat myself down waiting for whore The man at the desk said “what do you want?” I looked at him trying to be nonchalant My eyes were rolling, I couldn’t sit still My body was moving of its own freewill “I want a woman get them on display” “ But sir, you’re in the Bengal Indian Takeaway.” Copyright © Graeme Taylor 2013 GT