Since time immemorial, man has bottled
vacations
From both sluggish intellect and from
the over-meditation,
But no real journey is taken. It's no
travel. It's medication.
“Going out,” is no sightseeing.
It's where the masses take libation.
When their heads don't seem to work
right, they fix them with drink:
One kind for stopping, one for starting
to think.
I don't spill two libations. I have
one bottle, full of ink.
It's hell for my cleaners, but there's
no puking in sinks.
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