It ain’t a true family without any alcohol.
Everyone may have had it here or there.
Some party with it, Some use it to unwind,
Some get shitfaced in a sorrow nightmare.
Every house dedicates their ways differently.
My own Mexican family has their own desires,
To be in relation with such a devilish fire.
Beginning with the King of his Latino territory,
Father quaffs regardless of what’s in his cup.
He claims that alcohol is a bittersweet potion,
The mariachi playing on the tip of his taste buds.
The Queen enjoys her exquisite Greek wine.
Along with the richest God of all southern drinks,
She relishes tequila like ballet dancers on Broadway.
The Jack loves his Daniels with cheap beer.
Even Busch creates a slow dance beneath the skin.
Drowning the floor in beautiful whisky tears
The Joker simply is a sampler, sips like a lady,
The Vodka opens for a sense of fresh air in spring.
And a Redd’s Apple rocks her to the heart beat
The Spaded liquor, the Heart of the potable,
The Club knock out, the Diamond worth libation.
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