![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Bartender's Song
Pouring White Russians and pink peach Cosmos,
I make the register sing happily.
Lighting cigarettes and watching them glow,
I smile and laugh; this is the place to be.
A man is weeping into his Guinness,
a woman singing with the radio.
“It’s almost two AM, time to finish.
Drink up, people, get out, you need to go!”
The lights are off, everything’s locked up tight;
green vinyl bar stools stacked on black lacquer.
My tips are counted; it was a slow night.
Will tomorrow be better? I wonder.
I grab a six-pack for the long walk home.
It’s a bartender’s fate to leave alone.
Pouring White Russians and pink peach Cosmos,
I make the register sing happily.
Lighting cigarettes and watching them glow,
I smile and laugh; this is the place to be.
A man is weeping into his Guinness,
a woman singing with the radio.
“It’s almost two AM, time to finish.
Drink up, people, get out, you need to go!”
The lights are off, everything’s locked up tight;
green vinyl bar stools stacked on black lacquer.
My tips are counted; it was a slow night.
Will tomorrow be better? I wonder.
I grab a six-pack for the long walk home.
It’s a bartender’s fate to leave alone.