Alcohol is my friend,
it makes me cool.
Gives me the feeling
I’m all grown up
and ready to rule.
It brings class to my photos
on Instagram,
makes me feel carefree
on those days I can’t quite
get with the program.
It whispers sweet nothings
in my ear at night,
changes in the morning
to leech off me like some parasite.
I keep it at bay
by giving it more,
I’m mostly happy in knowing
it’s me he adores.
This dance is out of this world,
it’s a gas when your head twirls off,
not so much when your stomach's unfurled.
But so what! I’m no amateur,
I’ve heard how the bottle can turn saboteur.
A crutch to lean on, I’m told,
even so, the rhetoric just gets old.
Hey, I’m just fine!
I don’t need a helping hand,
bottom line!