You said save the Damsel,
but she's in no distress

I'm selfishly half dressed and less
awake than my clothes expect me to be

You said woo her with poetry,
but I'm out of back-of-receipts and torn off edges

I'm tired, and the shiraz has got to me
it started tunnelling through hollowed veins hours back

You said she'll be gone with the dew
leaving nothing but drops on your lips