there was a bucket of chicken in the fridge…some mashed potatoes and brown gravy as well…didn’t bother heating it up…ate it cold in a drunken state…or was i hungover…felt drunk…still buzzed from the night which fell into early morn…a lonesome early morn…
and where were you…no-where to be found…disappered as always…hiding in the riff-raff…maybe under covers…perhaps in the arms of a lover…you weren’t with me…
i was left with remains…cold greasy bits…while you had warmth…one way or another you had warmth…what i wouldn’t have gave…what i wouldn’t have done to have had you here…right here…beside me…
oh stop your blithering and whining…isn’ t masculine in the least…sound like an old woman for Christ’s sakes…all this carrying on over what…a little warmth…eh…
it’s back to the mines for you old boy…down in the darkness…thats where you’ll find yourself in this hour…alone…in the dark…
carry-on…
