My bed is a warm, motherly place,
My bed is a bright-red bench on the street.
All the alcohols mix in my blood,
Exchanging small talk and all sorts of chatter.
The ***** and redbull announces: “you’re done”,
The Jager booms with his baritone voice:
“achtung, achtung, ich bin über allem”,
The cider and kriek that I downed, at the end of it all,
Hectors me: “this guy’s not coming home,
Bet a fiver on it, but that’s all he has”.
And the nicotine, man’s greatest soldier,
Puffs up his chest, pops his collar:
“Son, get on up, Dover awaits, you’re going home.”
I stand, shudder and stretch,
Accept death in the November cold,
And come home, in spite of it all.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 7:26 AM UTC
My bed is a warm, motherly place,
My bed is a bright-red bench on the street.
All the alcohols mix in my blood,
Exchanging small talk and all sorts of chatter.
The ***** and redbull announces: “you’re done”,
The Jager booms with his baritone voice:
“achtung, achtung, ich bin über allem”,
The cider and kriek that I downed, at the end of it all,
Hectors me: “this guy’s not coming home,
Bet a fiver on it, but that’s all he has”.
And the nicotine, man’s greatest soldier,
Puffs up his chest, pops his collar:
“Son, get on up, Dover awaits, you’re going home.”
I stand, shudder and stretch,
Accept death in the November cold,
And come home, in spite of it all.
