I Can Never Finish What I Sta

Seed half a pint of whiskey as this half a soul
is bared: it’s a quarter past
too late and my baby’s just in time.
The climax is on the way,
(don’t mind if I climax on the way)
for such a short ride, what low so high,
don’t bother strapping in or you’ll regret
me before you know it. I’ve got an obsession
with your on name it, Coach: get me off
the bench. Here there’s no hero, so never mind
the never-minds, ignore the cape
and long winded intros - it’s a pleasure, or whatever,
depending on what you’re into. Music, rhythms, drinks,
base. The crowds a sea, but we still drink,
because otherwise we’re drowning.

Down the hatch, down the hatch,
base, base, base.