And so we come to yesterday, no drink
Lots of fags on the balcony instead
Never as good as that great combining
Of booze and fags which can't be defeated
If some false friends decide they've retreated
That's their loss, we both know that it was good
I get bored quickly, and if they're not stead-
fast in aiming at fun, they're Christmas pud
They're yesterday's news, they're just wasted blood
Going nowhere, no victims they're helping
They're just causes of boredom in my head
They are merely human samples of mud
Why care about them, why be worrying?
I'd rather enjoy life as should be led
Thur 28 Nov
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