In every room you enter
Every bottle of wine dies
You open many doors
Only the yours you can not find
Although you are more than great
You should call yourself a misery
If you were my lawful husband
I would throw you into piggery
It is confusing how you manage
In that state of complete drunkenness
To speak the words
Of perfect uniqueness
I am too sober
Maybe that's why
I can not find
Such a glorious rime
Of your bohemian steps
I should follow the trail
To find that beloved bar
Where you have been down and up
At exactly the same time
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