Gallon Of Sips Poem by Dead Beat Poet

Being with me,
is not what may seem,
I never have fights,
and everything is clean.

Sure it get's lonely,
every night alone.
But I get stuff done,
when I'm at home.

If when we meet,
and we probably will.
Forget my indifference,
go in for the kill.

When you wake up,
the lion inside.
Forget that you run,
you won't want to hide.

So lay on your back,
and wet down your lips.
I'll serve you a gallon,
with all little sips.