You complained when the drinks ran out; Alcohol's synonymous with fun, you said. I rolled my eyes, presented the concept Of conversation- you wouldn't give in And, in exasperation, I split the bottle on the bone in my leg, shard to shin, Muttered snidly as I bled, "Hope you like red".
(Better to be, than keep feeling dead)
and that's all on the topic of people who need to drink to be interesting x