WaitingForThePunchline

I'm at a party, glass of wine in my hand
I'm here half-hearted, don't know where to sit, stay or stand
I'm plotting my departure, scheming as fast as I can
Its going nowhere, suddenly I see this man

glass of gin, stupid grin, coming over
his hand, he extends, I look over my shoulder
there's no one else, just myself, he's approaching
on my space and escape, he's encroaching

Loose lips sink ships, or just my hopes for a good time
what you're lacking in the brain, you make up for with spine
you're so verbose, there's no where to go, just a field of social landmines
you've been talking all this time and I'm still waiting, waiting for the punchline

You're bowled over, by every hook, every line
that you utter in some random storyline,
that's going nowhere, but taking too much time
and the way you gesture, its like a frickin pantomine

that you're in, stupid grin, like you're interesting
and what you say in everyway is just the best thing
that I've heard every word is just depressing
when your words and the absurd are coalescing

a word to the wise is lost on your kind
I close my eyes, but only to find
that you're out of sight, but not out of mind