It lost it's meaning
Their were drinking wine
Their thoughts of confusion
Of tarnished old turpentine
So dizzy and queasy
Their sick in bed
Sooner not so late
They'll all be dead
It doesn't excuse them
They sealed their fate
They all be dead
Sealing their own fate


By,

John P. Pierre
Evanston, IL ©Saturday, August 01, 2015 on http://www.hellopoetry.com