Red Label

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    Red Label


    Numb like ice blocks
    Rub the back of tongue
    Hit the throat of the Titanic
    And watch them all fall off

    This freezing cold water
    Makes me forget you as a whole
    And this hypothermia ; feelin hot but I am so cold

    Red Label on my lips
    Johnny Walker speaking in my ear
    Everything I thought was so right
    Is distorted when you are not here

    They have groups for your lovers
    But I do not take part,
    Because they learn not to love you
    And I do not plan on making a start.

    You want a poem about you,
    Well this isn't it
    This is about my love for the scotch on my lips
    You want a poem about you,
    Well this isn't it
    This is about my love for the scotch on my lips

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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