Peace in the air;

peace in drunkenness;

‘cross despair–

there is peace in this air;

upheld through the nostrils–

the sun does shine;

and is shone a drunkard, without words or a line–

alive half dead, all of the time;

there is peace in drunkenness, the gentle drunkard;

with shaking eyes, like a handshake–

that too, until the brew;

and we both conform to the blurry vision.

There is peace my brother, in this brew;

that humanity hath spewed;

to turn water into wine is a godsend for our kind–

there is peace in this brew, that brings me alive, and I am kind;

the kind of peace that rolls in the haystack of justice lost, and this is fine–