Sitting in a bar
On Saturday morning
It’s not yet 12
Is that a warning?
I’m drinking coffee
But soon something stronger
There’s a gnawing in my gut
An alcoholic hunger
Scattered all around
are people just Like me
Sad, lonely souls
Drowning in a booze-filled sea
Some are eating breakfast
It disguises their craving
Legitimising existence
It’s only their face-saving
Young people made old
By the bottle
Looking to meet their maker
And get there at full throttle
So cheers to you all
My comrades in drink
Raise all our glasses
Give A bloodshot wink