With sticky-tape
I wind
Around your broken limbs
So loyal
For so long
You held my shirts and socks
Throughout the day
And long through the night
You stood tall until
Crack!
Down come the jeans
The towels-
All my clean underwear!
My night?
Oh wouldn’t you like to know?
In truth,
I’d like to know too…
I woke with my brain outside of my head,
With my hair in a deluge of knots;
My vision the quality of early TV,
With all the wrong colours and dots.
A bruise in the shape of Australia,
Tasmania included there too;
My legs the consistency of unset jelly,
That’s how I found the tattoo.
To be honest it’s all a bit of a blur,
There’s nothing in here that makes sense;
My friends are all saying that they feel the same,
How did we get into this mess?
But then they walk in,
The only smart thinker;
All smiley and loud,
Our one proud non-drinker.
“You couldn’t be stopped!
I did try n’ tell ya’…
But nothing could be done,
Once you’d brought out Tequila!”