Your Faithful Friend

Sometimes, I say, it's good to drink.
It clouds the brain so you don't think
so deeply or with too much care.
Inebriation acts like prayer!
It mollifies and melts your fears,
and turns to joy your tortured tears.

When alcohol's your faithful friend,
the world that drives you round the bend
will morph, and be a thing with wings,
a tiny fly or bird that sings.
Whose buzz won't bother you at all.
Whose caw will ring like song thrush call.

When fearful sights and tragic tales
are shown and told, then sorrow sails.
It seems unreal. The pain recedes
The Son of God, for you, He bleeds,
and meaning merges in your mind
with wonder: it is redefined!

Sometimes, when on your third or forth
the wind may blow from south or north.
No matter that the storm clouds meet
above your head, the beer tastes sweet!
And Life you'll deem a dazzling dream,
a perfect Paradise will seem.