The Prosecco was flowing
And so was the chat
Our surroundings were glowing
And the bubbles were fat.
We had one too many
No disputing that
Of food barely any
But no bubbles went flat.
Flat out in a taxi
On our way home
The puking was poxy
As my mate came undone.
Spent the next day
Hungover to fuck
Plans went astray
Hangovers suck.
A hair of the dog
Turned into 3
My mind became fog
But my mood switched to glee.
Lying in bed
And it’s Saturday night
To party instead
Would feel so right.
Faith In The Ripple Effect 