The Wife Is Going To Kill Me - Poem by Steven Harris
Well here we are again
walking alone along the streets
the lamps shine bright
and rain settles on the ground
a small breeze also fills the road.
I hope im not waking anybody up
my lovely singing voice needs to be herd
my my this is a dirty old town
whats those blue lights
am i in the club again
no officer im not drunk
yes i would like a lift home
the wife will be worried.
Wait a second this isnt my home
i remember seeing this place last week
i need to get home
i need a phone
i'll sleep on this bed first
i hope im ok in the morning
the wife is going to kill me
i just hope my heads ok.
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