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A Way Home

Climbing onto the streets after a night of partying
Ready to start searching for a way home
the cold air hits my face when i leave the club
and the chills make there way through my body
hunting down for a cab doesn't help, way to expensive
most of my money has been spent on drink
alot of it buying girls drink.

Not a taxi to be found anywhere
so tired aswell
a walk home would not help at all
all that dancing
all that drinking has broke me tonight
i need to jump into a cab somehow
i just hope i know where i live.

Singing with poeple in the street wont help
blurry singing just doesnt make sense
students walk by and look at us
with a look on their faces thinking we must be fools
which we are
blearying out lyrics i have never heard before
i just hope i can find a taxi before i fall flat on my face
i hope i don't drag my converse through a puddle of sick.

Finally a taxi and a cheap one too
putting me and friend in the back
managing to remember where we live
thank god we are on our way home
ready to drag my arse to bed
next week we will be doing the same thing
more partying, more drink and other things to.

The taxi stops and here we are
home at last no more partying tonight
hand over the money, lets get out
hold on a second this isnt where i live
looks like i'm going to be walking after all
better get home quick, the suns about to come up.

Submitted: Monday, May 20, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, May 21, 2013


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Comments about this poem (An Old Jazz Bar by Steven Harris )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (5/20/2013 10:46:00 PM)

    The sun about to comes up, good one.

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