It was a numbing night on friday late,
and everything was quiet,
Brant and Jay were there, the tone was violent,
and oblivious of our fate.

We had a fifth of justice, a shit-dark brown,
Bah-Cah-Rahdee, the God of war,
War and hangovers, that whore,
Brant was waving it like a scepter for his crown.

Bent like a carnival barker, he barked my name,
Adam! Adam! Come here!
What? I answered, sleep near.
Brant was like his nature, he wanted to play a game.

Jay laughed and clapped his hands,
this was entertainment,
even though he’d paid this kind of rent.
This was entertainment, too funny for demands,

The bottle whistled through the smoky air,
Come here and drink this you pussy!
What are you scared? Some kind of wussy?
Bah-Cah-Rahdee and I, apparently, had to share.

I waved him away, Brant didn’t like that.
I rolled away, despite the insult,
He had goaded me before, fucking dolt.
No was not the answer, and that was fucking that.

Chickenshit faggot, cocksucking bastard,
every name he could think about,
which wasn’t much, but left room to shout,
Get over here and drink this, you retard.

Like a second version of me, I leapt!
The momentum took me halfway,
my body slid the rest, to his dismany.
I arrived defiant, on my knees, respect kept.

I grabbed the bottle like a dangerous gun,
and I was prone to do violence,
I placed the barrel of the bottle to common sense,
and settled in for three quarters of dangerous fun.

Like the blazing light of truth, but stupid,
I conquered bottle, doubt and sense,
Chugged the god of war, hence,
My morning after, was left with no defense, and so stupid.

Bah-Cah-Rahdee, God of war,
War and Hangovers, he won that night,
and as the very last of the last light,
dimmed out, I remember thinking, hello floor.

Hello again, it’s morning,
and though I doubt that vomits mine,
I’m surprised its only nine.
Yup it’s mine, and i’m mourning.

Wow it’s only ten, and I can’t feel my feet,
that’s not normal, Jay tells me from the desk,
I feel a weight of myself upon my chest,
face down again, my numb limbs feel heat.

That was the sun, going down,
by myself now, I think that’s odd,
But you find, you can’t defy a god,
I drink again, Bah-Cah-Rahdee, keep your crown.

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