Ah, yes, when you are
Young brain cells come cheap.
You have many more
Than you really need,
Certainly fewer
Than you put to use.
No, it was not meant
As such, no intent
To be aversion
Therapy, but then
Bourbon has not touched
My lips since that night
In nineteen sixty-
Seven, when there was
An armistice set.
Everyone said that
I seemed to have had
A very good time.
I was not conscious
Of having done so.
The next day I spilled
My guts. Who said that
Confession was good
For the soul? For what?
Future engagements
Would be skirmishes,
Celtic ambushes,
Sophisticated sips.
The House of Sour Mash
Capitulated.
"We are slightly off what other's consider..." I'd trust your mag more if you used apostrophes correctly!
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