years and years ago,
when we were all big bullshitters,
I had this mate and
my god
he could spin a yarn.
like he told me
that this one sunday morning
he'd been out all night
somewhere in town
and that
he'd got on the northern line,
heading home to wimbledon,
still off his head,
(pills,
puff,
lager),
sweating,
smelled bad,
white jeans all stained
and cigarette burns
on his shirt
and
normal people staring at him,
and that
his eyes had closed
and that
when they opened again,
he was dazzled in the hot glare of daylight
and that he was passing through east finchley,
heading north,
as in he had supposedly been passed out all the way south to morden
and then all the way north on the way back up to high barnet.
well, I didn't believe him
but it was one of those clubland boasts,
one of those ecstasy war stories.
so I was probably all like "what are you like, you nutter."
when we were all big bullshitters,
I had this mate and
my god
he could spin a yarn.
like he told me
that this one sunday morning
he'd been out all night
somewhere in town
and that
he'd got on the northern line,
heading home to wimbledon,
still off his head,
(pills,
puff,
lager),
sweating,
smelled bad,
white jeans all stained
and cigarette burns
on his shirt
and
normal people staring at him,
and that
his eyes had closed
and that
when they opened again,
he was dazzled in the hot glare of daylight
and that he was passing through east finchley,
heading north,
as in he had supposedly been passed out all the way south to morden
and then all the way north on the way back up to high barnet.
well, I didn't believe him
but it was one of those clubland boasts,
one of those ecstasy war stories.
so I was probably all like "what are you like, you nutter."
