Til death do us: Part 1.

Just like the days of yester-year, I miss the childish nature of a joke gone wrong. We were the kings of a town littered with alcoholics. Elvis would've been proud. We know we have to grow up sometime, but how can it be done when there's a city full of wet roads and whole female hearts to puncture pot holes in? Everybody has got a story to tell and a chance to yell at the people who are lying and the people who are trying to keep us away from feeling drunk and happy. Take another drink for the road and test if the handbreaks are working. If they don't then it was surely worth a try. Just like our fallen comrades next to the road we will be forgotten by dead flowers and head-on-collisions. But pay your regards by drowning in gin and join us while we cross the river styx. We erect a party wherever we go and it never gets old. Hell better stock up on hard liquor, for eternity we will toast to the good old days and the friends yet to join this v.i.p only gathering. Where we shall go down on misery. And even maybe ourselves...