Raise your glass, you sick bastard; here’s to the ever afters you’ll barely know, brainchildren you’ve sown and family shame.
Here’s to your taxes, arbitrary income brackets tube-feeding their benefactors heroin, they cook up and binge like Friday night.
Here’s to your calluses, here’s to your life.
Here’s to the Viking inside you, still a savage, mind you, pillaging shorelines while inland holds vice and prosperity, blood diamonds of disparity that could tide us over in lieu of power.
Here’s to everything soured by money’s stain, spilt milk devouring olfactory, shooting gallery without safeguard, but the carnies banked their salary so the death tally’s henceforth moot.
Drink up boys, shake your grievances loose, they’ll only weigh you
down tomorrow, building houses in boroughs we might not afford.