I chanced to meet an alcoholic
A whiskey soaker so chronic
He could not live without it
And his hands trembled in a fit.
I tried to help clean him up
But without liquor he could not sup.
I asked him why he did not quit
that which made him so unfit
He paused before the next sip
And as his glass proceeded to his lip
He looked at me rather quizzical
And said something rather philosophical
“You sober guys think you’re better
Than us alcoholics so bitter
But the truth is you are no different
And have the same thing inherent
For me whiskey is my desire
But you desire to desire…”
He really set me thinking
While he kept on drinking
He only desired whiskey
While I was worse than a donkey
For I desired everything my eye did see
While he only had his whiskey to be free
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