It’s a funky dysfunction with an addictive kind of friction
And a love with violent distinction.
1986 could have seen me “eighty six’d” from this scene of distress.
What a hot mess
Give me another twenty and today’s friend will be tomorrow’s enemy.
That sex and booze are in the excess and flow a’ plenty.
Your warm beer is one frivolous thing that gets me upset
But to the women, I won’t resist.
Here’s party rock and spoken word
Rapped over an eight/eight tempo
locked against your rolled-up joint memento…
What a way to remember what made me arrange these fake words
and ingest meds
Struck by cocaine heads and
Who all happened to be your best friends
How was I to know
that what must’ve sucked for you
was my bust after her blow?
Copyright 2007 by MIKE PHELAN O’TOOLE.
All rights reserved.