Fuck Poker, we play BINGO

Fuck Poker, we play BINGO

As autumn doth follow on summer's light heels
And the later the hour, the colder it feels
The nights, they come sooner, the mornings are cold
And the hot days are now but a memory to hold

Despair creeps in gently with barely a sound
Is there nothing to look to til Christmas comes round?
Are we plagued by elections and politico jerks
And war with North Korea possibly in the works?
Is all that there's left now but to twiddle our thumbs
Pick at our noses and, yes, scratch our bums?

My friends, ...

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Stoned Leipzig
Kolonnadenstr. 15