A counter and three bottles of vodka =
One party, one-fifty people
Nine flights of steps and a rooftop =
A drunken mountain hike
Like a spiral staircase to heaven
One-fourty nine inebriated youths,
one sober set of eyes looking in,
one sober set of ears drinking in their words
Some spew philosophy,
The philosophy of nonsense trying to make sense,
Four writers and one mortician =
Three books about death, one corpse, and one steady cashflow
One whore and one prude=
One person
The girl who puts out and goes to the party and
The girl who refuses to cloud her thoughts with a
depressant,
Like the champagne that flowed out after we won the war to
end all wars
In the city that never sleeps, the city that never returned
to sobriety,
And we wonder why we never see a star in the night sky,
It's because of one counter and three bottles of vodka.
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