You never expect the Spanish Inquisition

 
It's an evening when you only need a tee shirt,
when one drink would lead to a drowning
and the easily encouraged are searching
for an excuse to swallow chaos with a chaser.

The house sits on a threshold of indecision
and I know a choice must be made, not delayed.
Girlfriends flat? sat quiet in that lap, a fly in a trap,
Out with the lads? binge till I'm sad, wished I hadn't.

There's a fork in the road ahead, but instead
I turn around, walk back over the railway bridge,
past the derelict farm house, up the side of the valley
and look down at myself going our different ways.