a hundred proof

it goes up.

it goes down.

i balanced it on the tip

of my finger nail,

a shot glass cracked

and filled with blood,

sweat, and tears.

a hundred proof too.

you know baby, he got it right.

that spinning wheel’s been

goin’ round and round

in my head and my eyes

are twirling and dizzy

with my ethanol dreams.

and i wish i was

a hundred proof.

it’d be so nice to

call you and let you know,

here i am baby, now

i’m gone and goin’

places you never

dreamed i could.

you know why, baby?

cuz i’m a hundred proof.

yeah, baby, and i

got enough juice to

keep goin’ around

and round and round.

around till i die, i guess.

around till i close my

eyes and sleep and sleep

and let the ethanol dreams

swim round my head

till i drown.

but right now baby,

i’m not there yet.

fifty, maybe fifty-five?

i don’t know baby.

but i got a long way to go.

a hundred’s a long way to go.

and you’ll know, don’t you.

you’ll know when i reach

a hundred proof.

i’m be flyin’ down town

and hoppin’ from cloud

eight to nine to ten

and you’ll know baby.

you’ll know.

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About plumpolie

"Tabula Rasa" means: "Write Here." (Actually, it doesn't but it may as well if you do know the meaning. If you don't, look it up, it won't kill you.) This is a site about nothing, anything or everything. I like to write- as you may soon see, and there's going to be no limits on these topics under the wide, wild world of the internet. The internet has sort of become this vessel for communication that I feel inclined to join, no matter how ugly, raw, strange or beautiful it may be. Like it, love it, hate it, it doesn't matter, we share it. So here I am.
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