Everyone likes to drink alcohol…
No, not me.
For once, all the spirits are overpriced,
Which makes man waste his day wage
On some grog, that is bitter on most occasions,
Unless, spiced up or made fruity.
As I sip an Irish Bailey, that my wife gives me
As I look at that bottle, selling a beverage that is only a step
Away from Ice Coffee, and still
Is 10 times, the selling price.
And drunk, what is it, but a little punchy lullaby
That sloths all your senses, selling spells of imbalance,
Making something nauseating appear
The following morning,
When you’re almost a clothes hanger,
Shoulders droopy, and feeling like a truck has run through you,
While your organs are like a scattered jigsaw puzzle
That is trying its best, to fit them all back.
