It's Friday night and I'm in the boozer
but on my own this winners a loser
The bar, the life, the atmosphere surround
doesn't mean as much with no friends around
the music, the vibe, the high society
only adds to my lonely anxiety
I'm joined by fella's also alone
Head in hands, hands on phone
Maybe they're regretting Fridays mistake
or maybe playing retrospective snake
whatever they doing, they're better of than me
I'm at the bar alone, writing poetry
They are freely passing the ready rub
and I'm writing all alone in a pub
This is a local for after work meetings
A place for friends with friendly greetings
A place for personality to thrive
A place where a poet can just survive
For my book they wait with anticipation
And my first reading will be down at the Station
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