My liver does not do its best
\nI’m sitting in a dirty vest
\nA week of stubble on my chin
\nWaiting to let the bailiffs in.<\/p>\n
No loser I before this time
\nWhen life became a pantomime,
\nBefore, I’d win most any row,
\nIt doesn’t seem to matter now.<\/p>\n
What went wrong is hard to say
\nBut there were hints along the way;
\nI’d drink and eat a hearty meal
\nAfter clinching every deal.<\/p>\n
As deal making became a drug
\nAnd remonstrations brought a shrug,
\nI never seemed to see my home
\nAnd sometimes I forgot to phone.<\/p>\n
When the tide turned and I was caught
\nBuying long and selling short,
\nThe scent of blood replaced the gin
\nAs friends moved on and wolves moved in.<\/p>\n
The collapse came when I was squeezed
\nNo help at hand and assets seized;
\nNow all seems hollow here inside,
\nJust bitter thoughts and false pride.<\/p>\n
The truth of course is hard to say
\nBut there were many debts to pay
\nBut still for me the hardest day
\nWas when Katherine went away.<\/p>\n
May 1993<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My liver does not do its best I’m sitting in a dirty vest A week of stubble on my chin Waiting to let the bailiffs in. No loser I before this time When life became a pantomime, Before, I’d win … Continue reading