drunken fuck
I knocked over the last of the
Canadian whiskey
there's still beer in a short glass
and pieces of me
floating down the
Clark Fork river
I'm not even in a bad mood
there's still beer
and the night sky
if I don't drop
my little silver pen
many more pages to write
The Russian craft
has a mind of her own
it's a damn shame she can't produce
alcohol on the run.
The fire runs short
burn my fingers
lighting it up
all the fires are burning
back in Canada eh!
there's most likely nothing I prefer
than a good drink
and campfire smoke
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