| One hundred bottles of beer on the floor.
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| One hundred bottles of beer.
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| Less than twenty days from drowning in the last five years.
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| A ring sucked from a finger.
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| A desert that sucks dreams.
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| Sand under grass, under fountains, under trees.
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| The pit sees only half of what you’re spending roulette wheels spinning,
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| Join in on the winning.
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| As pirates sail down sidewalks we drink beer in paper bags.
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| No stopping, standing, homeless sidewalks,
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| Celebratory atmosphere sags and we wonder
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| 'Will it ever rain again?'
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| We wonder on our money, on our bottled rum and gin,
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| Party central can only hold so much:
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| Lights, skies and horizons, drinks, buffets,
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| But enough talk and games, now it’s time to die.
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| One hundred bottles on the ground
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| And a last glance from the floor to the desert sky. |