Fucking alcohol! Forever fattening the calf,
Bloating my physique to have its final laugh!
It's not as if I even enjoy your nectars, all that much,
The off sense and balance-kiltering effects of its touch.
The scam you've presented in an empty calorie count
Pisses me off to no end. It appears, to plainly amount
To the workings, the cunnings, of a common charlatan!
-But what's to be done, when one's a devotee of Dionysian
Religion??.. For I admire the craft of a skillful mixologist,
Color and flavor, borne from the eye and hand of an artist.
Paired with those culled, culinary cares of a creative chef,
And then, -what's to be done?.. -I surrender. It is enough
To know when to say when. Sadly then, you are again beaten..
For you should have known, - joyful devotee of the Dionysian.