Two years ago I was sat on this chair,
In a room in a house down the road over there,
Listening to music and doing my hair,
Making my mind up about what clothes to wear,
Cos I was about to go out and get drunk with my friends,
Expecting to get so drunk I lost them again,
Dirt cheap booze leaving me change from a ten,
Sticky floors that haven't been cleaned since then.
Now instead I'm still sat where I sit,
Not doing my hair or clothes, don't care about it,
Just waiting for the Mentalist to start, the girl in that's quite fit,
Think we're having a curry so beware of my ****
Life's got weird, not quite how I'd like,
The way it's turned out was never in my sights,
Cross my fingers hope it turns out alright,
So I'm not stuck writing poetry on a Friday night.
