A Friday night
As any other
The souls drift on
The tales told a thousand fold
Exaggerated for the listening few
Shadows lick the smoke stained walls
Stained with the memories of all who speak
Light turns to night
Clientele the same
A thousand different collars
The stories all the same
I drift n smoke the shadows
On the same Friday nightly stem to the jukeboxes last refrain
Chisels on the the last train
I smoke last
Drink my last
Say goodbye again
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