Hung Over

Friday night
the bottom of the bottle in sight,
One, two, three in the morning
stomach grumbles without any warning.

Brain, belly and walls keep spinning
no way, could I go through another Inning.
Four hours sleep,
clutched in a heap.

The birds start to sing
'Got to get out of Bed'
But there's still a swing
inside my head.

Finally drag myself out the sack,
really feeling totally out of wack.
Head say's go back to bed it's all over,
you know the drill,
I'm really hung over.