She couldn't have been older than her thirties,
Made up an' in high heeled feet,
Not dancing, just drinking and watching,
Catching the eye of any man she could see.
I got close as I walked right past her,
I couldn't help but smell the perfume,
Designed to cover the smell of desperation,
That was taking over the room.
She needed a man,
She had too many cats,
I could just tell,
That she was like that,
Calling them "˜her boys',
And drinking red wine,
After her receptionist job,
That she worked part time.
She must have not talked to her friends all night,
Instead she stayed by the bar on her own.
They all danced and had a good time,
She was trying to get invited back home.
I don't know why I kept staring at her,
Cos I wasted the best part of my night,
And when I got back to ours a bit later,
I prayed to god that she was alright.
She needed some fun,
She had too much to lose,
I got the impression,
She would turn up on the news,
Overdosed on pills,
And a glass of red wine,
After another night lost,
Trying to find Mr Right.