fragments

I sit in a pub, I look around,
I hear fragments of conversation,
I sip a drink, glancing here and there,
Bleeding fragments of imagination.

A lass sat at a table with friends,
Quite cute, twenty-seven maybe?
Now would she want someone like me, it all depends,
But better say nowt and leave her be.

Another lass passes me by and says hello,
I sort of tried it on with her last week,
Obviously I failed as if you didn't know,
I drank too much and I acted like a geek.

The one by the bar is far to young,
And the waitress is happily engaged,
My mates' sister? That would get me hung!
These fragments of imagination some what deranged.

That redhead over there she has a boyfriend or two,
The blonde one? Ha ha I'll leave that one for you,
The brunette? Nope she's a policewomen, I might get arrested!
The foreigner? Bit dodgy but I tried she protested!

So here you see my fragments,
Like a broken glass never to be repaired,
So many strange shards and fragments,
Voices in my head never to be heard.

I know I would be shot if they found out,
Exactly in what and which way I think of them,
Including the gorgeous neighbour I spoke to last night,
And as for their boyfriends all muscle and jealousy,
Added to the fact of their secret hate of foreigners,
I would be definitely reduced to fragments all right!