Dreaming of thunder. Wanting for power. Sitting in the corner booth of the corner bar sipping a beer. Waiting for a beautiful young woman to buy me a tequila. So far, no luck.
Drunken philosophers mumble their wisdom into half-empty glasses and half-full bottles. Temporary truths are shared. The secrets of life hang always just one more shot away from understanding.
The beer bottle is empty. The rain pours down the greasy window. The booth is sweating. One more beer? Tequila? What drink will keep me dry as I walk home with a broken umbrella? Yes, just one more beer.