Psycho
is a
friend of mine, who makes me think
is
it even possible to be this pissed in the morning?
Before
the pubs are open - before a driving lesson?
Before
breakfast we were getting on a bus no questions
asked,
and necking vodka - answering only to Psycho’s
liquid
mood. The driver knows we’re up to it. Smoking
loudly
on the top deck. Rollies. Slyly taking hash pipes
in
the back just confirms it. There’s only one of us
on
this bus prepared to fight for thin air. And he watches
football
in the park as we pass. Cracks another one open,
saying:
Christ Shane - Isn’t it too early for that? I laugh.
And
the shudder that follows I put down to Lampeter council,
As
we take another wrong turning, drinking and being driven
further
into no man’s land, without a ticket, or plans to return
in
any fit state to go home with.
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