At
the bottom
of every corner store
and coffee shop mug,
there is a collection of
teardrops and coffee-stains.
Waiting
to be gathered
so they can write
their stories in indelible
ink.
At my favorite bar,
the one I hate the least.
I don’t know the music,
drifting out to the streets.
I have to sit outside,
cause I can’t stand the crowd.
Don’t know what they’re saying,
the music’s too darn loud.
Over in the corner,
playing the hipster scene.
There’s two twenty somethings,
hitting on a prom queen.
Sipping their microbrew,
trying to impress her.
All the while their eyes are,
trying to undress her.
But the sun warms my face,
this beer is good and cold.
Sitting at this table,
watching the day get old.
My youth may be gone now,
but I don’t have regrets.
I lived the way I want,
that’s as good as it gets.
I do know a hipster
he has a bushy beard
he likes a little sipster
though he acts a little wierd
he tries a sip at night
of ales not had before
to check it tastes alright
not leaving him feeling poor
this may attract a frown
amongst the great unwashed
from that there London town
and some say that it's all tosh!
It is not a biggy
To sip what he's not tried
In case it's brown and twiggy
and it smells like someone's died
My cat likes to sit in the window
He watches the passerby with a cool gaze
And though he cannot speak English
His meows are full of disdain
My cat likes to flick his tail back and forth
While he licks his hind parts
Maybe there's a secret eternal
Or maybe he simply farted
My cat likes to listen to electro swing
And I see him swaying to Caravan Palace
He sure loves to dance on Saturday
But every day to him is Caturday
My cat likes to look at me solemnly
Like he's seeing something dead in the trash can
He probably hates my existence
Even if I feed him every day
Leave your woes behind
In the heart of New Brunswick
Red cup beer games
Walls flashing, people sweating
Bring out the hipsters
Sundried blue jeans with attitude
Dancing around
Like fairies in the wind
Cigarette one cheek
Talking smack bout the system!
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