The ones who you drank with,
a close knit group of mates
who chatter and laugh,
the good time friends,
when everyone is happy,
carefree and out for a
wild fun night.
They're never available when you're down,
depressed with life, love,
or lack of either.
They can't talk if you're upset,
if you feel lonely,
you can't expect them to listen.
When you get angry,
they're too busy,
or you know that they'd
say it anyway.
They don't realise when you need a shoulder to cry on.
Because they're all good time friends,
they'd never understand.
