A net of transformations
Is intricately interwoven;
I want to give myself up to sloth,
But have got tangled
In the net of my bad habits
Which are aliens to me, I now declare!
I want to dive deeper
In the shadows, but neither canopy
Nor crown of a tree around me --
All friends are scattered, leaving me
On my own on the dance floor
In the blazing footlight and floodlight.
I cannot bring together
All my karaoke's lyrics --
There are so many words
And even more meanings
To hide them all
Under the vault of the night club.
But all of a sudden,
The rainbow falls down,
And dawn fills up the heavens
With the light of my carol
In which I glorify the way
Of being on good terms with hangover.
Quite a different subject, but I like the way you approach it. I always wondered why they called them, "clubs." As though somehow, all those lonely strangers would have some kind of kinship in a place with lots of alcohol and noisy music. For all my efforts on the dance floor, I couldn't find affection there. It was those guys who sat back in the corner drinking and didn't dance, that took home the girl.
Verdict: Beware the nightclub and all the waywardness that it brings. I personally can't stand those places, as in the days of my youth. My hangover from those days is well earned.
Modern labour theories and practice. Covers issues like employment, unemployment, migration, brain drain, entrepreneurship, workaholism, and trade unions.
Modern labour theories and practice. Covers issues like employment, unemployment, migration, brain drain, entrepreneurship, workaholism, and trade unions.
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Love ya!
Jane
Sandie
Ron