Clubbing Poetry from Don Domath
RED RASH
I am clubbing the weekends away
When low on cash
I can not afford buying expensive cream for my rash
DRUNK AS A SKUNK
The toilet is close
but I am not in my home
I puke in the street
Cause I can not walk on my feet
WHEELCHAIR FARE
Hey waiter
Do not tell me to be catched later
The service is no good
I'll whip out my sub-machine gun
and make sure you get me some real food
Bye bye, hugs from Sunny, KIA and Don.