saturday night

uptown

rows of neon signs

public houses

dance clubs

watching with cheap rum and coke
gay boys feeling each other

pretty girls making fools of themselves

to the hammering noise they call music
plastic tiaras
businessmen in the corner pretending to be young
and i trying to understand

there is no joy in this kind of youth

movement to loud heart beat sounds

mutes the truth of miserable isolation

helps pretend there is unity

joined together

by this awful rhythm

hands raised now

to lime-green lasers

and cheap alcohol

going wooo wooo haaa
like little children spinning
in the attic
until the floor rises up
while the boring adults play their dinner game

things don't change