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Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder and I have a rye wit
World’s not getting any clearer as bottle’s content I gulp not sip
Name your poison, what’s your pleasure? What helps get you through your day?
Inebriate with wishful drinking just to hold demons at bay
Every morning with the bottle I renew my lease on life
It’s my rock and my salvation though it cuts just like a knife
Long ago, when so much younger, stood and laughed at unknown
What once viewed as tiny molehills into mountains they’ve now grown
Groan and grunt with labored breath performing tasks once took in stride
Fancied once might walk on water now seem always caught in riptide
Flesh is weak but spirit’s willing, is bromide of yesterday
Now not even willing spirit is a card I’ve left to play
Morning comes you’ll find me red-eyed suffering from night before
Wish I could find different lover but to bottle I’m wed for sure
I accept what she’ll give me though I know her love’s no good
One day her tenderness will end me; I’ll be laid out in box of wood
When my remains are lowered into my eternal resting place
Hope that for nip from the bottle I’ll no longer have a taste
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder and I have a rye wit
World’s not getting any clearer as bottle’s content I gulp not sip
Name your poison, what’s your pleasure? What helps get you through your day?
Inebriate with wishful drinking just to hold demons at bay

 

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