Slide show

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

grease in the air

The smell of grease is strong
And the party rages on
Howling at the moon
As they scream and shout
Believing in their party obligation 
Like it is constitutional right
Keeping their Neighbors awake
Playing their music loud
It is there fault I listen to country
Friends in no places
And whiskey chasers
The chauffeur with cowboy boots own
Party lingers on into the morning
The bottles are empty and the  hang over bangs 
As the amber flows down the drain
The burnt grease overpowering all senses
And the party rages on
Fire works all night long
Chasing the summer
As they scream and shout
Howling at the moon
Playing their music loud
It is their fault I listen to country
Hearing all those broken heart
Friends in dirty places
And hands on the beer
Water skiing in cowboy boots
Following the sun all summer long
I hearing them hollowing at the moon
Calling the band back on
So they can play another tune

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