Tipsy on their Labor Day, in rakia you're swimming. Through hill's rooms you play, tipsy on their Labor Day, a heady plum bouquet, glass waving, brimming, tipsy on their Labor Day - in rakia you're swimming.
An altitude of ale A barometer of beer A circulation of champagne A depression of damassine An equilibrium of eau de vie A fractus of fenny A gust of grappa A hail of horilka An isotherm of icewine A jet stream of jenever A kilopascal of kirsch A layer of limoncello A metamorphism of mead A nocturnal of nuvo An overcast of ouzo A persistence of porter A reaction of rakia A storm of sake A torrent of tequila An updraft of unicum A vortex of ***** A winter of whiskey
The spell doesn’t change it just dances around the coins the pennies boom with bronze and sun; no sin for a lap dog with teeth we travel for sometime, then exchange in the Balkans.
Whatever walks back through Bulgarian time are never the same legs that take it there; green rock hammer landscapes warm the air with its bugs, its song, and road.