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Hyperbole sits at the end of the bar
A sketchbook in hand
Scanned the QR
Waiting for something with oils and fries
Has not much to say
There's a fight in the street
Tangled dogs and their leads
And the red and the blue
Teams on the TV
Are doing their best
Puffing their chests
To keep score
Can we have just a little more?
The twentieth century left us sore
Now I don't drink but I'll watch you pour
Walk you home and say
Goodnight at your door
Hyperbole sits
One hand in the light
Loosening skin with a list inscribed
Peace in our time
But if all out if that
Then just get some cheese
There's a fight at the bar
A collapsing of stars
Even if it's just two
Of the minor ones
The heat and the light
The need to cry
Has to go somewhere
Can we have just a little more?
The twentieth century left us sore
Now I don't drink but I'll watch you pour
Walk you home and say
Goodnight at your door
