Empty people fill a room,
Of dusty dreams, it’s like a tomb.
They stand and sip, all hieroglyphic,
Thinking this is just terrific.

A bite to eat, an idle chat,
She never did, well fancy that.
Michael’s looking well these days,
It’s been a very tricky phase.

I step outside to get some air,
And find a woman standing there.
She’s on the edge, with tear-stained cheeks,
Her heel has snapped, her breath, it reeks.

She asks me if I like her dress,
I take a look and tell her, yes.
She smiles at me and drawing breath,
Without a word, leaps to her death.

A drop of scotch, a swig of gin,
Which bedroom is my jacket in?
Andy said he’d run me home,
But he’s in the bog and not alone.

Parties are the strangest things,
Nothing moves unless it swings.
I guess I’m just not in the groove,
Time, I think, to make a move.