Party Hardy - Its Our Hobby Poem by Kevin Patrick

Make Everyday feel like its Saturday night
On blue days, when frowns, are wearing you tight
When you’re dead on the weight of your jobs paper strain
Put the effort to preplan the late night gravy train

On the electrified nights go out for the hustle
Find a neon Olympus were Greco gods get muscled
As volunteers to the parlor of indulgent fulfillments
And Dr. of Liquor sedate your feet to easy strolling

Be a high flying ace and catch a girl (maybe two)
Play the swab cavalier and a dance floor tycoon
Make a storm to her system like a sudden typhoon
It’s the time you have the dime, don't be the buffon

Even if your toes are compiled out of stone
Ignite the nitro to your femur and let the cadence go
Manouver like tiger who can foreclose without appeal
For the true language of love is our weak Achilles heal

So get away from the table
and use the motion potion
The mating seasons in full session
And you’re a jackal for inspiration

In Three scorn years,
to the power of twelve
you’ll be the dead reminder
of a stegosaurus neighbor


Dance until the songs, become Sunday’s epilogue
Move like a shark until your wet as a dead log
Until the dawn kills the night birds majestic flight
You’re a serpentine superstar soaring at the executive height

So dance, until your dreams are lost inside the rain
And you forget that romance is a faith for the insane
Oblivions horizon is elevated in each new dawn
One day you will look back and wonder what happened to the fun