I drink to write, and write my writing slow.
I write my words in all I know to fear.
I know there's more to what more I could know.
We live by writing. Why else should we go?
I feel my fingers creeping towards the beer.
I drink to drink, and write my drinking slow.
Of words so drunk inside me, what are you?
God bless the drinkers! I'll be with you here,
And we won't ask each other to say no.
Time drowned my words, but I can't tell you how.
The pen and mug are all that I hold dear.
I write to drink, and drink my drinking slow.
My muse has left me too much room to grow
Into an addict. I want out of here.
There has to be another way to know.
This fever keeps me stable. Can't let go.
Who else is drunk on words but writers?
I write to write, and drink my writing slow.
I'll never drink down all I write to know.