See, the folks we love,
they get drunk sometimes.
Sometimes, they go and
do things that make us question
(not really, but we think so)
weather we really love them
anymore.

Sometimes, though
the folks we love,
they get drunk,
and then they bare their
very souls
(drunk words are sober thoughts
and all that, though I hardly believe it).
Now, what to do with the
mess they’ve made the morning after?