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By the time the bar closes
I will be four hours older
and four hours drunker.

I will be four hours more disillusioned
and four hours more lonely

By the time I stumble along the aimless streets
nicely buzzed and nicely angrily alone
heading for a cluttered home
I will be four hours more destitute and angry

Hope to pass out before there’s time
to think and remember and ruminate
on this shaggy sorry state

By the time the bar closes
I will be four hours closer