Alcohol like water – a universal conduit;
now brings forth the hearts deepest truths
without question to will or consequence -
as playful friends remember their youth.

We take to the streets in the cool afternoon
as in creeps the night and stars and moon;
with that vivid distress stretching across sky
in oranges and pinks - both beautiful to eye.

This troubled dreamer lies there in bed,
now scratching at his empty, weary head;
wondering why it is - the world is so,
and why it is - that he’s feeling low.