Gray Suits

It's only half past noon
Sunday morning
I am drunk, yet again
waiting for the morning paper
the neighbors stare my oafish grin
noticing my intoxicated glory
laughing in their gray suits
off their day jobs, to pursue bigger and better things
I shake my head in disgust
For they're no different than me
To have such riches
is to first give up all hope
knowing that you will wake up each morning
to an angry wife and ugly children
hideous like the man you've become
demanding food and rent
leaving you empty and restless
but this is the fate of man
Gray Suits and fancy cars
deprived of joy,
withdrawn from morals,
even too tired for sex

And then you will die
your money given to the people you despise the most
to be wasted on all unnecessary virtues
wasted like every last dollar spent
Hell couldn't be much worse than this
So here I still wait by the porch
Burnt out and hungry
Going home to a worthless woman
and her ugly children
who once brought such joy
but now only shame
To the man in the gray suit