It was a night of mystery and confusion, a haze of neon lights and forgotten dreams. We were all at the Late-Comers Social Club, the place where the lost and the forgotten gather to relive the night before.
I vaguely recall stumbling upon a table with a sign that read "Free Pizza". I remember the smell of melted cheese and the taste of regret. But as for my name, it's a complete blank slate.
Some say I was "Bob", others claim I was "Steve". But I know the truth: I'm a master of disguise, a virtuoso of vagueness, a sultan of secrecy.
Maybe I Remembered My Name, But Then Forgot It Again I Remembered My Name, But It Wasn't the Name I Thought It Was I Remembered the Night Before, But Forgot the Club**I'm not saying I don't have a name, but...**
Ask the Barman, He'll Know