Inside the bottle of a Blue Moon beer and he was drinking
Cold and wet and drowning. He was drinking
Sloshing about in an endless spiral and he was drinking
A bright orange sun. He was drinking
Resting on the horizon of pale waters and he was drinking
The lingering of bitterness. He was drinking
Intertwined and floating about and he was drinking
A hint of sweet, her hands so cold. He was drinking
The waters seemed darker where she lay and he was drinking
Lower tides and further waves. He was drinking
Clouds of cream hovering above and he was drinking
She preferred Guinness anyway. He was drinking
This poems has so many swirls, it makes me feel all kinds of intoxicated.
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