There needs to be

Something to fill the interim,
But I couldn't tell you what it was.

It's probably the time to say
That I've broken the sacred pact,
That I gave up with the jigsaw
(On trying to find a match)
And flung myself at the mercy
Of another vile catch.

Back to old habits, I say!
Sitting here
Sipping on
My pint of pinot rose.

The wine may be the reason for this awful shitty poem
ner ner n-ner, ner ner n-ner, ner ner n-ner ner owe 'em.