The morning after the night before

Strewn pizza boxes cover the dirty floor

as do half full cans of cola, we couldn't drink much more

the vodka bottles empty, or maybe full of air

clothes stacked into a pile, tossed without a care

I hear the fuzz of static from the TV on the shelf

the vomit on the bedsheets, never cared much for my health

CD's out of cases, some broken into parts

paper in the trash can, that's where inspiration starts

The party long since over, we've all had our fill

of the evening that has left us, kept us bitter still.

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