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
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