I saunter the streets with swagger all night;
Even give in to cockblockers without a fight;
Looking at the half-skirts is so much a delight;
But who is THE one, I don’t know.
Bars and tables I don’t ever skip;
They say, ‘Yay sir, do you want a sip?’;
And they say, ‘Can’t sit here, ’tis reserved for the hip’;
Who’s THE one meant for me, I don’t know.
Skirts with hairy arms around are regular;
Skirts sitting alone on table but very rare;
I can only get a singles’ table and a chair;
For if I will ever have THE one, I don’t know.
Is she the ‘soulmate’, is she ‘true love’;
Will I find her online or in mangrove;
Friendzone has been my only ladylove;
Who’s THE one who won’t do that to me, I don’t know.
Heaven knows who might be those who get to cum;
Hey still you can count on swiggy and a bottle of rum;
Will I get to enjoy such treats when I get the bum?
That’s something well, I certainly don’t know.
– By Marlowe