Eric C. and Alex M.
Adapted from the poem by Alex M.
As the door closes shut
and you slough off your bag
You try not to think, but
That sweet temptress nags.
You recall last night
Head hung in shame.
There is no right
When you play this game.
Yet you yearn for it more
Each night more than last.
The sweet whore
Whose comfort leaves too fast.
That sweet sweet bottle,
In your iron grip.
Your soul it does mottle
With every sip.
You give in, yes,
You're too weak to stop
Each night, no less,
You finish every drop.
As sleep takes hold
You sober and clear.
You know you'll do this till old,
Eternally stuck here.
As the door closes shut
and you slough off your bag
You try not to think, but
That sweet temptress nags.
You recall last night
Head hung in shame.
There is no right
When you play this game.
Yet you yearn for it more
Each night more than last.
The sweet whore
Whose comfort leaves too fast.
That sweet sweet bottle,
In your iron grip.
Your soul it does mottle
With every sip.
You give in, yes,
You're too weak to stop
Each night, no less,
You finish every drop.
As sleep takes hold
You sober and clear.
You know you'll do this till old,
Eternally stuck here.