So many bottles
And so many tastes
So many kinds
And so many names
But in the end
It's always the same
And all that
Artisanship
Yields
A dull brain
What starts with
A trickle of warmth
Soon spreads to joy
But flows into
Deep dark
Miry slough
That pulls
You down
And then
You'll reckon
Never again
Until the next
Time when
You say Oh Hell
Let's do it times ten
In fact
F*ck it
We'll mix it
All up in
A bucket