There’s a pub on the corner
And I know what I’m going to find
Sad people who are barely dressed
But keep wearing a smile-
Looking everyone in the eye-
Not allowing people to escape-
From the small conversation
That almost sounds taped.

Ladies cross their bare legs,
And intentionally loudly laugh
the cup of wine that fills their hands-
Is used to fulfil the missing half.
When there’s no football game running,
And a guy is there by himself,
His problems are drunk off
Until his only worry lays in the empty shelf.
And those habitual clients,
who already have beer in their veins
can barely walk to the counter
But the usual order remains.

There’s a pub on every corner
In this city of empty souls
And I wonder if what this city gives
Is better than what it stole.