The Wife Is Going To Kill Me Poem by Steven Harris

The Wife Is Going To Kill Me



Well here we are again
walking alone along the streets
the lamps shine bright
and rain settles on the ground
a small breeze also fills the road.

I hope im not waking anybody up
my lovely singing voice needs to be herd
my my this is a dirty old town
whats those blue lights
am i in the club again
no officer im not drunk
yes i would like a lift home
the wife will be worried.

Wait a second this isnt my home
i remember seeing this place last week
i need to get home
i need a phone
i'll sleep on this bed first
i hope im ok in the morning
the wife is going to kill me
i just hope my heads ok.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success