Vincent Van's Vice

A Lucid drink,

Proof: one, two, four.

Abs in the sink.

His stomach is sore.

"I am refined."

Quipped the blind mind.

\|/

A novice to spirits,

He swallows it pure.

He'll never forget

That green liquor.

Dilute it you fool!

Add the chrushed ice!

A drop of blood,

And mint if you like.

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