Shots rang through the cold winter air,
The General mused on his old wicker chair,
That fateful night in the middle of June,
When he had first heard that plaintive tune.
“He’s an Alcohol Man,
Trudging an Alcohol life,
Living an Alcohol dream,
Blood in his Alcohol stream”
The General was hopelessly lost,
Dying in a desert night-frost,
The song from a distant inn,
Set him towards the source seeking.
The veiled singer’s figure was perfection,*
He was a helpless prisoner of seduction,
To discern her concealed visage,
He willfully entered the mirage.
There was the Alcohol Man,
Lurking behind an Alcohol veil,
Waiting for his Alcohol prey,
To fall into his Alcohol snare.
“Step in for the initiation,
This will be your best decision
Millions before have made the trip”
She whispered in a lissome lisp.
The faceless waiter plonked down,
The welcome drink, for a crown,
The General unbuttoned his old parka,
He said,” Waiter, there is a mosquito in my vodka”.
The waiter replied, “These lamps show life in a jaundiced light,
In reality, there is no wrong or right,
The Alcohol Man should never be refused,
He will save you from being confused.”
He is the Alcohol Man, You ain’t got no demands or liability here,
Takes you in his Alcohol van,
Past the Alcohol gates,
Into the world of Alcohol ways.
No fuckin’ insurance, no fuckin’ career.
The General found himself in a floating bliss,
Slowly slipping into the alcoholic abyss.
You ain’t got no demands or liability here,
Now he was the Alcohol man,
Marching the Alcohol band,
Living the Alcohol dream,
Blood in his Alcohol stream.
Shots rang through the cold winter air… :)
*By “perfection… and …seduction” I refer to the Smirnoff bottle. :)