In this world, there are four types of people
Four breeds of drunks
Whose genetic predisposition sets them up for failure;
Easy pickings for the amber nectar

Most well known, perfectly depicted on storyboards,
Is the mean drunk
Those whose anger will come out 
Exploding in the pent-up rage of a bastard unable to claim their birthright
Whose words will fly
Before his mind has the ability to catch the tongue in motion

The one I knew and loved was a nice bastard
When he drank the hatred for the world lifted away
and the jokester would come running out of its cage
A rowdy laugh attempting to fill the space that cannot be filled

The indifferent ones languish in their corners,
With nodding heads, soberly nursing their drinks
they see their world through a wasted veil

Then the most rare of species; the sober ones
Those who, when offered a drink, slowly and surely refuse
They are congratulated by the mean ones, the cheerfully drunk
and the indifferent men alike
For although they drink enough for all they can do
nothing
but admire those strong enough to resist the final sin
The unnamed evil, the downward fall