AT
THE BARS
The
bars are such a varied place,
There
is much more than meets the face.
The
yuppies, yippies, studs and jocks,
The workers, alc'ies, jerks and
docs.
People
come from all around,
To
meet, to gather with
hopes abound.
Some
drown their sorrows and shed their tears,
To free them from their lonesome fears.
Others
come celebrate their joys,
Praise
ambitions they've employed.
Casual
sex is often sought,
Wandering
eyes so often caught.
Visual
seduction with hopes transferred,
Small
talk made without a word.
Dancing,
flirting, singing, struttin’,
Dressed to the 'T', to sock and button.
People
there take such care,
To
make-up their body, and do their hair.
The
noisy smoke filled room is loud,
Which smells like beer upon the ground.
"Whiskey,
wine, what'll it be?",
"A pitcher' fine. With glasses for
three?
The
bar tender or waitress will get you ripped,
But only if you leave a tip.
And
if you do they'll look back and say
"Thank
you sir, have a good day."
Lady's
night, happy hour, the disco or game,
Bring
people out who seek the same.
Soap
opera lives in search of one-nighters,
The
rednecks and hoodlums seek out the fighters.
The
gays and nymphos look for a lover,
The
straight and narrow wont pay the cover.
Good
buddies and couples, rich men and poor,
The shy and aggressive looking to score.
There's
one thing in common with those from afar,
They've
all taken shelter at the bar.