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AFTER THE PARTY
AFTER THE PARTY
After the party I awoke on a desert island
At least I thought so, with the blinding sun
And a view of all those swaying palm trees
Well, perhaps it was me who was swaying
My head was thumping as if bongos playing
And wet with sweat at over eighty degrees
I guess that last night must have been fun
But just where I am now, I don’t understand
Perhaps it’s the Tahitian picture on the wall
And the bright morning sun is streaming in
I am wearing my underpants front to back
Probably a game, or a sort of joke on me
But is that the ocean out there that I can see
Maybe it was daybreak before I hit the sack
So many cocktails made with pink hued gin
It’s such a pity I cannot think straight at all
There’s still noisy laughter outside in the hall
Just the usual cheap upper floor motel room
It may be my own, I suppose I should check
My mouth is so dry and my head is spinning
Have I been drunk from the very beginning
But is this a floral garland around my neck
It can only be my vivid imagination, I assume
I’m not on an exotic tropical island after all
Copyright ©
Howard Osborne
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