cheers

the long day it draws to a close

with dried sweat and aching toes

and as he reaches for a deserving beer

out rolls from his eye a fresh frothy tear

it falls with a plop and not a sound

like a sad feather plummeting to the ground

and as he looks at this drop never a puddle

he grabs his ale in a warm loving cuddle

he raises it and fixes it with a stare

like a thirsty 3-year-old without a care

it gazes back, and maybe even grins

smiles; hey you, we could've been twins

for you’re like me, and I’m like you

we’ve been through worse; how do you do?

ram cobain