I believe it's, typically,
about two stout deep
when the thoughts of my queen creep-
into the vibrant spotlight of my mind.
These internal gears begin to grind;
this mind, slips my grip... I begin to lose.
Thus, & as such...
I continue sipping brews,
with such high amounts
of ethanol & yeast-,
for- you see- the love that I do love
lays her beautiful mind
about one hundred kilo-'s nor'east.