Filled with the beer,
That does not,
Make me call you,
My dear,
Rather I would have had,
Poured something stronger then me,
But little do we know,
When we go to lost places,
Joining the group,
Dreaming about a coup,
In literature,
If ever,
Then now,
May truth be told,
Two blondines,
Walk the street,
Looking for a nice foreign treat,
We sit across,
And call out,
The more the merrier,
I wonder if thy know,
Just how much,
I've been waiting,
For a moment like this,
To talk to a stranger,
That seems a better friend,
Then those I have,
About you and you and you,
For he does not judge,
My habit of hanging on,
To all that we've lost,
He understands,
It's the talk of booze,
Or love.
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Choose, choose, choose, Who are your friends, Who is your family? |
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