The Third Drink

The third man is a film revered

And a very well regarded scent

The third eye is a heavy heavy brow

On a Hindu cow in a worship tent

But the third drink

Is a prick in the universe

Anchor and balloon

Fierce flame and a cold spoon

A Guarded moment

At the change of guards

Which ushers in the imp, and the whispers, and the weeping bards

(singing Two Minutes to Midnight)

And asks of the senses derange

Be unbound and

Ripple and be above all strange

Unserious now, do frolic,

Improvise, vivid alcoholic.

The third drink is chaperone

To the flood

Who, once asked to dance

Gives more whim than any fool

Ought chance

The third man suffers not

Over time it only grows its plot

The third eye reads bovinely polyglot,

The third drink gets me into troubles

A lot

Oh the third drink

Is a prick in the universe

Anchor and balloon

And the wire in between on fire with a dying tune

we’re gonna blitz it all, leaving only a black tawdry mark

The third drink is a light, leads me into the dark