Triad
Another Fuckin' Barfight
Rating:PG
You’ve always had the smart mouth, never knowing just when you’ve hit that point. Or maybe you do and you still push and push until something happens. Until they throw the first punch or start yelling and you smile that fuckin’ arrogant little smirk. Sometimes finishing off your Bushmills before dignifying them with your full attention, and God, that’s dangerous, pushing that one there. Even you can see that he was just looking for a fight, not caring who it's with, just so long as someone ends up hurting. But you’re not going to listen to me, are you? Not going to drop it when I tell you to and be safe. If I didn’t love you so much I think I’d hate you. No, that’s a lie. I’ll love you no matter what, my beautiful, fuckin’ exasperating twin.
So here we are in the pub, and you’re at it again. Wasn’t the smartest thing to say about his mother, you know. Can’t blame the man for hitting you. Well, I can, and I will, but I know the look in your eyes, and yes it is your fight and no, I’m not going to interfere. Not yet. But when the two others get into it, and you’re still smiling through your split lip, licking the blood away, then I will. Because you’re my brother.
Because I, I can’t watch this, can’t just fuckin’ sit here and watch you try and bleed your demons away. So I snarl and launch myself at the one who’s just punched you in the ribs, and Christ, but that feels good. No time to shake the throb out of my fist, just duck and twist, and who really gives a fuck about fighting fair when they started it three against one? And when we’ve won, and they’re waiting under tables for some smarter friends to take them home, I’ll smack you, trying not to show how much you fuckin’ scare me. Drink up and let’s go home, boyo. It’s been a long night.
Rating:PG
You’ve always had the smart mouth, never knowing just when you’ve hit that point. Or maybe you do and you still push and push until something happens. Until they throw the first punch or start yelling and you smile that fuckin’ arrogant little smirk. Sometimes finishing off your Bushmills before dignifying them with your full attention, and God, that’s dangerous, pushing that one there. Even you can see that he was just looking for a fight, not caring who it's with, just so long as someone ends up hurting. But you’re not going to listen to me, are you? Not going to drop it when I tell you to and be safe. If I didn’t love you so much I think I’d hate you. No, that’s a lie. I’ll love you no matter what, my beautiful, fuckin’ exasperating twin.
So here we are in the pub, and you’re at it again. Wasn’t the smartest thing to say about his mother, you know. Can’t blame the man for hitting you. Well, I can, and I will, but I know the look in your eyes, and yes it is your fight and no, I’m not going to interfere. Not yet. But when the two others get into it, and you’re still smiling through your split lip, licking the blood away, then I will. Because you’re my brother.
Because I, I can’t watch this, can’t just fuckin’ sit here and watch you try and bleed your demons away. So I snarl and launch myself at the one who’s just punched you in the ribs, and Christ, but that feels good. No time to shake the throb out of my fist, just duck and twist, and who really gives a fuck about fighting fair when they started it three against one? And when we’ve won, and they’re waiting under tables for some smarter friends to take them home, I’ll smack you, trying not to show how much you fuckin’ scare me. Drink up and let’s go home, boyo. It’s been a long night.