Women sit on the laps of drunken men
Each man has claimed his *****
Only one man sits alone
Nursing a bottle of Jack

His eyes downcast and shadowed
Are filled with fire and doubt
A fire that burns sharp and bitter
Much like the liquor in his mouth

Woodsmoke covers the sweet smells
Of *** and Black and Milds
As all fly higher, they care less and less
The energy becomes primal and wild

Slowly they separate in groups of two
Each pair to find a tent of their own
The clearing empties, the fire dies down
And only one man is left alone