Its commensal, at best,
This house fly of a guest;
Who frequents your home,
Alits on a chair,
Rubbing its hands together.
It shows no regrets,
Feeding, slurping and buzzing,
With a self-made bequest.
I can tolerate a bar fly;
A barn fly, a sty fly;
But,
I've the bottle fly,
That plunders my fridge,
Swarms over my beer
Like a blood-thirsty midge.
He's a house fly,
And ignorant,
So fly paper won't do.
I need a SWAT team to shoo
This house fly adieu.

All I wanted was a drink
Caught in circumstances of today
Trying to drink away tomorrow
Yet, still living in yesterday

Never saw you come
Barely heard you speak
Your lips and eyes
So red - so blue

Three shots deep and
Now we’re reminiscing over
Things we’ve long forgot
Drawing closer through the thoughts of lust

In the ocean of your blue eyes
I see us swimming through the night
Burning at the thoughts of
Your red lips, kiss and press to mine....

What a tough day
Hoping tomorrow will be better
Squeeze the pillow tight
Try and forget your night.

You stopped washing your jeans
Read about it in a magazine
Adds character apparently
Creases, dirt and gallantry.

Always short of money
Bills never stop a coming
Try and turn a blind eye
But the end is nigh.

Monday to Friday passes
Taste of stale bourbon fades
Appetite starts to grow
Time to do it all again in woe.

One glass
Two ice cubes
Three shots of bourbon
For me to enjoy

My day quickly fades at your presence, my sweet friend
Thank you so much for this pleasure, you truly are a treasure
I never want my time with you to end

Dear Bourbon,

Thank you for this night
For taking my day and setting it right
Thank you for the way that you strongly taste
Like a kick in the teeth, a punch in the face
I love it, I won't let a sip go to waste
It's hard for me to keep a slow pace, sometimes at the bar it feels like a race
To see how many guys I can chase
Taunting them with my porcelain face

Thank you, dear Bourbon
You give me strength
You show me how to dull my pain
To take the day and set it free
As I sip on my cold whiskey

Last night there was a drunk guy
Staring right at me
I saw it in his eyes
That he was drunk as he could be

He asked me creepy questions
With his speech so slurred
You can't make a good impression
When you can't pronounce your words

His mouth sure liked to spout
And he got right in my face
Asked "What do you care about?"
I replied "Personal space."