*morning finds*
These racing sharks and hearts
These fools without borders
The dead and living
And distracted constant brewing
In the morning find
Beyond dregs and nightmares of wine
The world has been cast anew
Forged uneven and in anger
Tossed and shaken and destroyed
Truths laid bare in Bacchanalian revelry
Have ripped roots of trust bare
Which was no more
The floor seems a comforting place
From which to howl your tale of woe.
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