Where, my friends, have you gotten to? Now that I no longer listen to the call of the creature. Were here you ever? Or was I so imbibed I imagined you by my side? As alone I stare, aware of my fear. Fear that I held at bay with a shield of aluminum. I regress to being last chosen for red rover, A long way from the awestruck crowds of Dionytes That fed my thirst and called me Saint of Taverns. As mine eyes crystallize in focus, I see naught but a wasted life That I must taste un-wasted.