Dreaming of thunder.
Wanting for power. Sitting in the corner booth of the corner bar
sipping a beer. Waiting for a beautiful young woman to buy me a
tequila. So far, no luck.
Drunken philosophers
mumble their wisdom into half-empty glasses and half-full bottles.
Temporary truths are shared. The secrets of life hang always just one
more shot away from understanding.
The beer bottle is
empty. The rain pours down the greasy window. The booth is sweating.
One more beer? Tequila? What drink will keep me dry as I walk home
with a broken umbrella? Yes, just one more beer.
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Talk to me dude