Still the Reaper
When we speak of the drink
We cannot think
The ravaging menace we are
Turning that key
cranking up the car
From bar to bar
We roam
Amongst the dead
Hangovers we do dread
Eight hours of boozing
Sick and tired of
Being sick and tired
And losing
All that I have in one sack
Will soon be gone
In a brief encounter
When the grim reaper of
Consequence
Returns for payback
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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