Beer, Gin, Crabs, and Vomit

While that big fat moon above shines down on love, he sits alone just talking to himself.
He says, “Excuse me sir, I thought you were someone else,
someone a shitload charminger than you,
someone who can make a lonely one a lucky two.”
White wine and sushi, a smoochie movie, second gin and tonic in her fist,
“This movie’s crap! Boys who love like that do not exist,
but maybe we could stroll on down to the bar.
‘Cause in case they do, I’m sure that’s where they are.”
Where vision is blurred, sweet talk is slurred, and those beer lights are twinkling stars.
As she comes nearer, it becomes clear her image through the bottom of his glass
is near perfection, except her hair, face, tits, and ass.
He’ll have a couple more, and then see how she rates.
True love is blind. Drunk love hallucinates.
Right now she’s a three over all. She’ll be a nine by last call, and a zero at half past eight.
(You know the next morning, like eight o’clock? You know what I mean?)
So baby what’s your poison? What’ll make me look like him (like Kerry Grant).
Tonight it’s beer for the boys, and for the young lady - dry gin.
Bartender, hit her once again, and just leave that bottle there my friend.
No more negotiations, deliberations. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
“Won’t you escort me to my Lumina my dear?
I’ll start her up, and I’ll close one eye for luck.
‘Cause I’m far too drunk to drive, but just right to…..”
“Since my seventh Tanqueray I’ve liked you…..”
“I’m too drunk to drive, but just right to fuck.
I’m so glad we met. Do me a favor, my pet. Roll down that window in case you,
can tell by your face you might need a place to throw up.”
“Yeah, I’m so glad we met. I’ll make this a night to remember to forget.”
“I’m gonna give you crabs, and watch you throw up.”