The deity of fermented madness lounges upon his grapevine throne
Projecting an image of content ecstasy
But at the depths of his being, is all alone.

Says the sober man to his disciples: “You must be out of your mind”
“There’s beauty in insanity,” Answers the god of wine.

So he surrounds himself with the fruit of fools
Fermented toxicity seeping into his head
Until the jester inside him revolts and rules
And his mind is made of grapes instead.