Good Old Joy Of Desperation - Poem by Jerome Fuseau
Let's have another round, mate
Till closing time.
This ticking is teasing me
And my glass is already warm.
Let's stay till eight
In the morning. Look at those
Rushing barmaids. Terrific.
The night possesses all of us
And spreads this dreadful feeling.
Stay here a bit longer, mate.
Stay here in this fearful safety
Without any specific occasion,
Not to ignore but feel
The good old joy of desperation.
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