Lost Weekend
By Brian Gogarty
(13th March 1991)
Ìý
Petrol for the charcoal, a match to spark the
flame,
Strangers all around me and I wonder why I came,
Standing at this barbecue with drinks and so called friends
I begin my journey sober to another lost weekend.
Ìý
The banter and the craic are splendid for a while,
The beer flows with the vodka and it makes the people smile,
The party long continues and never seems to end,
I slip into the oblivion of another lost weekend.
Ìý
I never seem to worry if I'm rich or I am broke,
I always find the money for another rum & coke.
And if I drink alone, or in a crowd of so called friends
I can slide into the bottle for another lost weekend.
Ìý
And waking from my slumber in a place I may not
know,
The only thought I have is that I must now get home.
Leaving all the debris and empty cans among my friends
I travel homeward sheepishly, from another lost weekend.
Ìý
Each time the feelings different, and yet it is
the same,
When I get home I always swear l'll never drink again.
But memory is selective and I bump into a friend
And head out on the town towards another lost weekend.
Ìý
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