Impatience

I know you’re not right for me,
But why give up the opportunity,
I mean for now, can we let it be?
Just pick it up and run
Just for fun
Just to feel free
Why insist on the strings?
On the hang ups and hold ups
I prefer butterscotch schnapps
And dancing to the undertones
Falling on the patio paving stones
Hitting my funny bone,
And for once I do laugh
I can see the humour
Must be the alcohol blur
As my speech slurs
And I realise and carry on
‘Oh My God I love this song!’
And I feel like we really get along
Who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong?
Next thing I know your hands on my thigh
And it hits me that it’s really cold for July
So I pull myself away and glance at the time
And its half three, but I turn a blind eye
I think I like the way your hair sits
That striking blonde that it is
And your smile reminds me of his
Maybe the rest is just words
That take you from attraction to the other thing
What’s between love and ‘a bit of a fling’?
Exactly how long is a piece of string?
But now I'm deviating
On to the events of the next morning
I awoke, my face stuck to the floor with cider
The sugar condensed on my cheek
From the under floor heating
I fancied a coffee but we didn’t have any milk in
No food either but I didn’t feel like eating
I could hear the Stereophonics from that radio in the kitchen
I venture further in, in search of caffeine
And I see that the sink is abnormally clean
Someone was sick, the same old routine
Parties don’t vary much when you’re only sixteen
Its tequila shots and vodka mixers
Local boys and private school tricksters
They’ll say damn near anything to get in your knickers
The girls that give in are dripping with regret
But I suppose third time round you learn to forget
Because the bitches place bets
And I rip you off on a box of cigarettes
Who needs a summer job when you can overcharge skets?
But I'm going off task again
The carpets been stained
And the counter tops covered in chow mein
But I sweep it in the bin and slip on my Mary Jane’s
To go to the shop and get some fags and whiskey
I return, everyone’s up and making cups of tea
And smiths sitting picking at what’s left of the Chinese
Then were lying on the grass with some reds and a bottle of JD
Everyone’s united coz we can’t be fucked to disagree