The Language of Drunk

Three sheets to the wind, the boat meanders,

Hammered with repeated blows.

Euphoric, triumph will prevail.

Loaded with accessories,

Annihilates the blue screen of death.

Naggin-bottle, empty and sweaty.

Groggy from exhaustion and blows.

Under the weather deck,

Addicted in a weakened state,

Giddy, as dusk approaches,

Erunk, The past becomes present.

Oiled on troubled waters,

Fried from battling the waves.

Drunk with passion to reach

Rocky land in the far distance.

Under the influence, controlling my fate,

Newcastle, on the horizon,

Knowing, the safety of the harbor.

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