Stratford Mercenaries

Happy Hour

Stratford Mercenaries


Said she wanted everything so he played at power king, and just for the shortest while he let the alcohol guide his smile. Till he saw his face in the mirror by the bar something whispered just how far do you think you'll get tonight boy, you're going down face the truth you're going down. It's easy to shag and blag and blow to tangle those bedsheets with someone you don't know. But in the morning it's all too real, in the morning there ain't no sex appeal. So easy to say that you don't give a damn, and setting the mask you can prove you're really the man, that calculated smile with no risk to pride but how long can you run from what you know is inside? Between the stirrup and the ground they mercy sought and mercy found, pressed to the shadows desperate to feel any kind of real appeal. No sighing strains of violins the streetlights indifferent to anything, no satin sheets or curtain calls just shattered dreams as the bottle falls. Cars go by full of john's so high, she's in the back, it's a game of do or die as they head for the city of seedy lights, she wonders if her lover will be tender tonight. She's got a bellyful of spirit, her heads full of hope, backs against the wall as she prays she can cope with her face in the morning, devoid of all cover, she finds no solace in the arms of her lover. As she turns to give him her prettiest face and finds him staring into space, watching headlights on the road outside he lets the alcohol suggest a ride, and she glimpses her face in the mirror in the car and something whispers just how far will you let him go tonight without letting him down face the truth, you're going down.

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