Svante's drinking song
Night is so cold.
Life is so short.
Friends move out further
off than they ought.
My tongue’s all mouldy, my soul’s lost its
pep.
And each time I move it’s a backward step
You must just keep your spirits primed.
I am drunk and I’m feeling fine.
Cobbles for bread.
Traffic like shears.
Zips and not buttons.
Music that sears.
Stars that are sooty and grins that don’t
fit
and porter and belches and aquavit.
You must just keep your spirits primed.
I am drunk and I’m feeling fine.
Tiredness and tears.
Shouts like coarse rope.
Hands quite rejected.
Hope without hope.
Toothache. Insomnia. Gastric distress.
But life’s worth a hangover still, I guess.
You must just keep your spirits primed.
I am drunk and I’m feeling fine.
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