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Congregating to redress
Our inner scars
In our acquainted bar
That houses liquor barrels,
Each of the affected souls
Holds a goblet each in hand;
The liquid poured slowly into the vessel
Instantly alerts the sleeping devil.
On going down our food-pipes
The spirit raises our spirits
To shed reality
While casting the prototypes;
Whining tears of grievance,
Proping philosophy,
Knock each other down in turns
Providing external bruises;
We, the boozers, segregate
And head homeward!