Old people walk out for walks
There are unknown birds making chirping outside
And Sun getting ready for another day
While I am drunk and thinking of you
There are The Beatles in my ears
And I think we have the same fears
Of tomorrow and the day after
And the whole fucking life ahead
Life is difficult, but I have alcohol
When it gets tough, for some time
I can afford to forget it all
And hope it will end up fine
Somedays I do not want to rhyme
Just want to kill someone and do jailtime
But I heard they don't have net in jail
How will I update my blogs and check my email?
Other days I do want to make sense
In this dull, dreary space devoid of romance
Maybe I should read a Mills and Boons
I wish I was born with silver spoons.
And anothe bored poem joins the hoard of shit
Is this it?