(Pronounced lik-wawr [lik-ore] for rhyming purposes)
He lifts you up when you’re feeling down,
All he asks is a lengthy pour.
Impossible to wear a frown,
Turn to the drawer for your friend Liquor!
Think your voice is as hushed as a mouse,
Yet vocal cords strain as you let out a roar.
The cops are called from the neighboring house,
Blame it all on your comrade Liquor.
Playing poker with wads of cash,
Thought you were in with a nine and a four.
Realize what’s what and made for a dash,
But tripped and fell because Mr. Liquor.
She certainly wasn’t a real good-looker,
Broke the bank, now you got no more.
Used your expenses for a lowly hooker,
Thank your buddy! High-five, Liquor!
You mocked the gorilla in the zoo cage,
He took a swipe and removed the door.
He caught up to you and attacked with rage,
Forget the pain with your pal Liquor!
Infiltrating the mafia seemed easy enough,
Posing with bling and drugs galore.
They uncover your files and find you’re not tough,
Sit back and relax, offer up some Liquor.
Thought it’d be fun to raid missile silos,
Launch a rocket and declare State of War.
Now you dread the draft they propose,
As long as they let you bring your Liquor.
Beaten and bruised, seems like no fun,
Try to keep stable on the slanted floor.
But it’s easy to forget these horrible nights,
Grab for that bottle of trusty Liquor.
Woah! Is that bottle writing a poem?
There's no way that picture is photshopped!
Yep, I got a little lazy with this one, but it's getting hard to keep up with the challenge. Must... drink more... epinephrine.