What I hate the most?
The terrifying ghost
That rules the streets and coasts;
That rules the world with an
Iron Hand; to this ruler, this conqueror we raise our glass and
Toast, to the hateful horrid things which (our horrible, terrifying Host has done)
That have made much men pass.

I name the deed, --the act, and the crime,--
The Death that calls good men to climb
Downward, deep and drenched, demised.

The Death, the Ghost, --I hate so much,--
For it brings your end when it
Breaks your crutch and it snaps your soul and it
Tears it whole from your heart.

The death, the ghost,
Has earth, itself, engrossed, and it seems
No one can stop it.

I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it.
And I hate it.

For the few minutes and moments of fun it will give you
Is not worth risking death from the blue.
Is not worth risking your
Body imbued ‘round the base of a tree,
Not worth risking, anything, at all; Say no, and leave.

The Ghost, alcohol, call it whatever you call it,
Has more pros than cons,
I bet you with cash in my wallet.
I bet that if you asked the father who lost his son in a wreck, in a crash;
The father, that watched his son’s body be burned to ash,
The husband, who’s wife no longer wants to see him,
The man who lost his future due to his incapability to say no,
I bet if you ask these people, if the drinks they had were worth it.
They would probably say no.