My freedom from boredom
The cold and hops-filled libation flows into my gullet
Soaking into my stomach like a much needed ran in an arid wasteland
Counter-intuitive to my health, but I care not
We eventually expire like curdled, rotten milk
Mortality is a blessing, not a curse
Indulgence in what hurts us seems all too natural
Are you escaping reality and responsibility?
Recurring themes, destined to repeat
Passed on through genetic lineage
Will you break the cycle?
Oh good, the bartender notices I need another