People don't like me because I make terrible moonshine.
Nobody in their right mind wants this whiskey of mine.
I've received a lot of angry phone calls, and some pretty nasty letters.
People say that when it comes to my shine, horse **** tastes better.
A city slicker actually called my moonshine slop.
He felt he'd been ripped off so he called the cops.
The police arrested him too for buying the moonshine in the first place.
His stupidity got him jail time, you should've seen the look on his face.
My shine is so terrible that the Surgeon General has started putting a warning label on every bottle.
If you drink my 130 proof moonshine, you won't walk straight for days, when you walk, you will waddle.
My shine will knock your head off, it's sure not as mild as a malt.
I've warned you about my shine so if it makes you go blind, it will be your fault.

Lost between words, buried by thoughts.
Tonight the distiller is dripping moonshine I drown my sorrows in.
The smoke of ****** marijuana mixed with tobacco takes over the gallery.
A handful of souls still awake. One thing in common we all have, the dream of freedom.
Killers, robbers, dealers, here one is no different than the next.
All government merchandise.
With the late hours of the night comes the silence.
As silence takes over, the hypnotic sound of the moonshine dripping from the distiller take one’s thoughts on a journey deep inside the mind.
Little by little the bottle fills up as the mind empties.
It is time the ghosts visit. Time to leave this place with them.
Cruising the known world in my mind. To be with the loved ones, at least on my imagination.
They seem to show up in waves. She is usually the first one. We talk, we dance, take long walks, but is never enough.
There is so much to know about her still.
Then come the friends, family. Eventually some actual ghosts even.
Slowly the moonshine and the writing give place to sleep.
The chance of meeting her in my dreams, moonshine inebriated.

They have different shapes
They were all different
But still they were beautiful
They dance with the stars in the sky
And bring the lonely night
With their moonshine to life.

All I want is some sunshine
But I was not ready
Maybe if I drink this moonshine
My words will become heady.

A tease.
Yellow bees.
Plumb.
Twinkling ***.

Eleven.
Where is heaven.
Who creates.
The gates.

The sky.
Through the eye.
Clouds.
Crowds.

He’s got natural rhythm, a girl in a red dress, a suit of clothes, a hat and a silk vest,
A set of brogues, a packet of cigarettes, a 20 dollar bill with no regrets.
He’s got a fast mouth, a slick deck of cards, chequered blues and a V8 ford;
He’s got jazz, gospel, and ragtime too: a carpet bag and a jug for *****.
Sheba, Sheba, Sheik!
He’s got it, he’s got Jake,
His feet will roam from town to town.  
Sheba, Sheba, Sheik, Sheik!
He’s the devil with a ******* snake,
Your feet may never leave this town; not alive anyway!
For he’s on the board walk,
She’s on the board walk,
We’re on the board walk now!

He’s got mojo, see him switch and walk, a winning smile, a stick of chalk,
He’s a hot shot, man about town, his skin is sweet and his eyes are brown,
He’ll strut that rooster, beat them gums, take cash or cheque before she comes.
He’s got jazz, gospel, ragtime too, a carpet bag and a jug for *****.
Sheba, Sheba, Sheik!
He’s got it, he’s got Jake,
His feet will roam from town to town,  
Sheba, Sheba, Sheik, Sheik!
He’s the devil and no mistake
Your feet may never leave this town; not alive anyway!
For he’s on the board walk,
She’s on the board walk,
We’re on the board walk now!


Song Link: https://youtu.be/l5papPgYaBc

moonshine overflows
from night's infinity pool.
rare are such delights.