The story

It was one of those Friday night's
That turn into Sunday mornings
When you are awoken by the strong stench
Of last night's beer
The darkness thick
And promising to conceal
All done under its cover
The star's twinkle
Was particularly dim tonight
The moonlight
Seem to only shine
On the evil that lurked
Like wolves waiting
To pounce on any dream
That dared rear its head
Wolves in sheeps clothes
Promising an unforgettable night
For just R50
Neatly packaged in a small plastic
To stop the "fun" from escaping
They don't tell you
That its only fun once
And the rest of the time
You will spend chasing it
R50 after R50after R50
And it will always stay one step ahead of you
And everytime you think you about to get it
It will elude you
And the more you chase it
The further away it becomes
Yet the wolves keep this false hope alive
Trading a packet for a dream
R50 is the retail price for your soul
And on this particular night
My spirit was up for sale
With me as the agent
My commission in a plastic bag...