Pour me a Molotov…

and serve the cocktail on Ice.

The embers that consume it,

feel warmer than the finest whiskey you have.

Pour me a stiff one. With a dash a Benzin.

It is the lingering aftertaste of a burning circle about to be complete.

Pour me two. One for me, one for my Sergeant.

The flames within him burn harsher than these embers.

It is the fire within him that fuels us all.

Pour me another and drop 3 blocks of Ice.

The same that runs through the veins of this monstrosity beyond human.

Last round my good man, pour a cocktail for all my mates on that table.

Not one of us shall rally sober. Not when revolution is within range.

You shall breathe the same freedom that we do when we return.

Dream another dream every night in peaceful sleep.

Pour me another one while you’re at it,

For now we march on…

 

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