I keep four in my wallet all the time
In case my head hurts when I’m trying to rhyme

So here I walk trying to be creative
And form clever words that people find relative

And that familiar ache is creeping in
That reminds me of beer soaked Friday night sin

I’ll dial it back next time and have some restraint
So that perhaps I can avoid this Saturday morning complaint

How I hope there’s a corner store near
So I can toss back a Goodys and maybe chase it with a beer.