There's no peace to be found in the middle of a party,
you don't want to be at.
The strawberry laced chemical fog of vape chokes the air,
Overpowering the familiar fragrance of spilled lager and drunken tales.
The shot girl pushes her tray toward me. I don't want one.
The television screen is brighter than the future facing many in here,
The debt piling up in cost of living crisis Britain
As the three in one pay day plans come knocking
and the car insurance rises yet again.
You really ought to look both ways when you pull out.
Brawls break out, one two three
A mosh of angst and teenage delirium
Still trapped in the bodies of middle aged men
That never got to the nirvana of being comfortable with themselves.
That **** shot girl won't give up.
The group of addled lads push into my space,
Throwing a punch they don't mean and
sneering love lines to the bar maid
that definitely hasn't heard that one before.
I don't think even she thinks her Next jeans are the stairway to heaven, pal.
A fourth goal rolls in, it's time go. The dream of the gathered mass
flies away on the muggy early May air
quick as it came. back to the beginning. square one.
Not for a while yet.
The bouncer clears the floor.
And still the shots are sold.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 5:15 AM UTC
There's no peace to be found in the middle of a party,
you don't want to be at.
The strawberry laced chemical fog of vape chokes the air,
Overpowering the familiar fragrance of spilled lager and drunken tales.
The shot girl pushes her tray toward me. I don't want one.
The television screen is brighter than the future facing many in here,
The debt piling up in cost of living crisis Britain
As the three in one pay day plans come knocking
and the car insurance rises yet again.
You really ought to look both ways when you pull out.
Brawls break out, one two three
A mosh of angst and teenage delirium
Still trapped in the bodies of middle aged men
That never got to the nirvana of being comfortable with themselves.
That **** shot girl won't give up.
The group of addled lads push into my space,
Throwing a punch they don't mean and
sneering love lines to the bar maid
that definitely hasn't heard that one before.
I don't think even she thinks her Next jeans are the stairway to heaven, pal.
A fourth goal rolls in, it's time go. The dream of the gathered mass
flies away on the muggy early May air
quick as it came. back to the beginning. square one.
Not for a while yet.
The bouncer clears the floor.
And still the shots are sold.