You hold that glass with an iron grip
as you let the magic pass your lips.
You turn and bend
to the fickle wind
How time shapes your ego trips.

You take and take for all you're worth;
each moment filled with wine and mirth;
the bloom of the rose
draws to a close;
Withhold some time to spit and curse.

It's funny how one soon forgets
the player who always struts and frets
there on the stage
the drama's rage
You double down; you've hedged your bets.

So here you go and there you are
you've seen some sights and traveled far
Don't hesitate
to punctuate
between the fresh wound and the scar.

Here now rest your weary head
and sleep dreamless on your bed
and then incline
yourself to wine
and live your life until you're dead.