There was a place called El Bar
Where PBR was the star
I fucked up this poem
Put a slug in my dome
I could have ended with PBR
&&&
Blustery Bullshit
and fabricated facts
each truth welcomed
with a flurry of smacks
There's no profit in honesty
Money flies toward lies
If we end up surviving
It'll be a surprise
&&&
Sam tending
Sam slinging
Sam pouring
What we're drinking
Sam slamming
Sam in sable
Sam unjamming
That damn pool table
&&&
Amy coming in clutch
A black pen in hand
Jamming & drawing
to her favorite bands.
I needed some color
outside of my blue
A simple black pen
my creativity renewed.
&&&
Spider eggs
amongst the kegs
hunters hunting
with all eight legs.
Stealth and steal
to find a meal
hunters hunting
with arachnid zeal.
&&&
Buy'em & drain'em
Each drink a deferral
of responsibility
and the real world.
I should go home
clean and cook and improve
but that takes effort
I don't want to move.
So one more, bartender!
Then one after that.
Don't judge me too harshly
as I grow old and fat.
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