Last Call

And so we’ve had another night

Of poetry and proses

And each man know he’ll be alone

When the sacred ginmill closes

And so we’ll drink the final glass

Each to his joy and sorrow

And hope the numbing drunk will last

Till opening tomorrow

And when we stumble back again

Like paralytic dancers

Each knows the question he must ask

And each man knows the answer

And so we’ll drink the final drink

That cuts the brain in sections

Where answers do not signify

And there aren’t any questions

I broke my heart the other day

It will mend again tomorrow

If I'd been drunk when I was born

I'd be ignorant of sorrow

And so we'll drink the final toast

That never can be spoken

Here's to the heart that is wise enough

To know when it's better off broke