what goes around, goes around sleepy, sleepless nights laying in bed eyes wide open Old Milwaukee calling me cheap creepy beer first half of the bottle tastes bitter not bitter maybe just a little smelly cheap creepy beer vowing not to get the good stuff til I get a job in the liquor store in the afternoon jean jacket greasy hair back in that dimly-lit corner looking bottom shelf nine-ninety-nine case specials Docker-wearing sweatered yups frown, don't give me room looking at those imports and microbrews and specialty beers they'll sip from frosted glasses discussing something they heard on NPR I'll sit at home in the dark Old Milwaukee soggy chips writing bad poetry vowing to escape cheap creepy beers Old Mil Black Label Blatz once I get that office job working with yups wearing Dockers, sweaters soaked in fluorescent, daydreaming of staying up all night with cheap creepy beers empties dead soldiers spread on the table in the dark at home
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