Why then can't we just
fuck
and drink beer?
Surely those words must have
been written by
more men than just me
Your face is in the lights reflection
off the ice cubes in the bottom of every
scotch on the rocks
It's your skin I can feel
When my hand touches the
polished edge of the bar
when I drain from the bottle
I can see you
breathing life into
me
So why then can't we just
fuck
and drink beer
Why is it ever more than
just that?
Because of the mornings
Bastard mornings.