Tonight I went to a house warming party,
Just to be nice,
When I really should have been at home,
With my hungover head on ice.

I didn't like most of the people there,
They bored me in fact,
Especially the cliche hippies with long dreaded hair,
Clothes, barely intact.

As the night went on,
The washed up ****** ****,
Came through the gate.
One by one by one.

I don't have time for people,
They drain me.
Trying to be nice by buying minors alcohol,
But no one repays me.

The welcome wasn't the warmest,
I was patronised because of my mode of transport,
By yet another ****** ****,
And his tattered up Jansport.

Eighteen years to realise,
That the public and I don't get a long.
Eighteen years later and I can guarantee,
That i'll be singing my own funeral song.