Bartender Oh Bartender

Bartender Oh Bartender (a stout rendition of O Captain! My Captain! Perfect rhythmic rhyme with tonic when the doth ale). Mine eyes espy the glory per the ending of another work day beckon Baileys Irish Creme with Absolut certainty that Fireball named Brandy the Patron Crown Royal abets dream quest proof positive to expunge stressful Boss distilling this cooked Grey Goose a gleam with nary a clue how my ceaseless toiling efforts play within the lager corporation scheme assigning exemplary skills and talents within what appears to be a trumped up losing team. No exit out this grueling twenty first century rat trap when The Chips Are Down, whereby Scotch chief en gin that air except to drawn displeasure and wallow in sorrows downing Booze or house brand beer despite drunken state erodes axons and synapses snap like chattering teeth of broken gear quickly cause tenuous grasp on queasy reality, sanity, and tenacity rent asunder and tear. Now that work day done at long last, not a moment to tally date with Jack Daniels to delay this linkedin the conga line wants to wash away sounds of barked orders Rum bling – may king me insides writhing with anger as if type cast in diabolical formidable, horrible play whereby each active scene increases assistance for Johnny Walker to glide and sashay. Argh, how those last remaining minutes to escape hubbub tick away at the pace of a snail to these myopic eyes, which suspect manager surreptitiously turns back clock hands male lush hiss lee deliberately toys with sanity, thus seek counsel from Jimmy Beam without fail when super tramping head honcho will cease cheap trick renouncing cruel act with ale. Without schmaltz, Hops, skips and jumps inebriation welcomes me by rendering taps receding thoughts of being bound, cramped, and emulsified in dark cubicle Schnapps as if invisible taut cord tears into virtual tatters and this life of Wry lee loosed like flaps from shredded material trailing a tail that rivals tales of Aesop's. That ambler liquid of the gods soothes palate and tongue helps a comfortably numb feeling to settles within thine body electric dulling the senses with heavy eyelids plum met to close shut tight riding the wave of ecstasy, reflecting about dad and late mum though come the morrow, a hangover with sensation akin to Gunter Grass loud internal tin drum. Upon rising sober with total amnesia sans pandering as a buffoon realizing fallacious gimcrackery while ensconced in fermented cocoon an email fried off from the top dog quickly reminded yours truly how I did goon off the rails, perhaps cuz of living within a trackless caboose August sized wife named June adept at belting out and playing Claire de lune.