The Bitter Truthful Burn of Campari

By any other name, I’m a masculine being

With very feminine yearning for the touch of seduction

Girls don’t seduce they deduce and and force you to produce evidence for your innocents

But I’m guilty lady Justice 

Guilty of feeling like Friendship is borderline personally dumb

Hey is it allowed to think outside the box 

While I make rendezvous of booze in the city where I call the shots 

In a rustic way

I’m a gun shooter polluter with an affinity for tweeting 

In a modern way

I’m a vintage soul just hanging in the millenia trying to conquer a 17 year old millennium 

I choked like Falcons on Patriot fries

And Freedom Toast 

And I toasted to a hundred weddings and never attended a God damn one.

Because the union of souls is souless

So chew on that while your ice cube melts

In the bitter red pool of Italian liqueur 

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