Stoned

I was walking home from town one night a little worse for wear,
A little rain was falling but I didn’t really care.
I was walking down the white lines in the middle of the street,
Wishing I’d the money to buy something nice to eat.

I was howling at the moon about the town I loved so well,
As, all around me, dogs were captivated by my spell.
When, from the shadow of a hedge appeared a callow youth,
Who looked to me a bit intimidating, tell the truth.

There were earrings in his eyebrows, there were earrings in his cheek,
So many in his upper lip, I doubted he could speak.
His hair was shaved down either side, and, tattooed on his hand,
Was a picture of the lead guitarist from the Glitter Band.

“You got any cigarettes?” he gave a husky croak,
I told him I was sorry but I didn’t even smoke.
“Cigarettes are bad for you,” he added with a curse,
“But having none at all, old son, might turn out even worse.”

From deep within his pocket, he drew out a nasty blade.
I’d sobered up considerably and now was quite afraid.
He took a step towards me and I backed away in fear,
Perfectly aware there was no other person near.

Suddenly a whooshing sound came whistling through the sky
And then there came a crash and I suspected I might die
And, when the smoke had cleared a bit, and I surveyed the scene,
I only saw a crater where the callow youth had been.

I stared down at the hole and then I stared up at the night,
Marvelling at the timing of that blessed meteorite,
And then I shrugged my shoulders and continued on my way,
Happy I was still alive to see another day.