Scotch on the merry rocks, please!
A little temptation to whet the vicious pallete
Feeling the pain of the running night right through my each and every leg
Whippersnapper folklore delicately tarnished, dregs banished immediately
Unabashed people never seem to sleep for too long a time
Fearful of missing out, a silent eye does in fact tend to steer you altogether wrong
Then there’s those who look to snooze at a million miles a minute
Craving that completely castaway existence
T. Hanks on the off chance
Six pence none the richer
Creating, marbling, their very own scripture – knee-deep
That nobody will ever get to see but themselves
We need to make up our mighty minds, one glorious adolescent at a time
And dig, delve, a little deeper

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