One smacker which smacks of ethanol,
Does discourage me from sleep.
Ultramarine turns to gold,
Submachine gun light to hold,
Two smackers which smack of ethanol,
Do discourage me from sleep.
Gin and tonic-fuelled elegies,
Three smackers which smack of all of these
Do discourage me,
Of all people would you believe,
From the sleep I so desperately need.
p.s. in actual fact, all I desperately need is you.