I am a king here with my brew:
A king who has no need of you.
When I can press my lips to this
What need of I for your lost kiss?

A castle I will call this bar:
My minions, come from near and far,
Are here to drink with me and know
That we can still be high when low,

And reign over each cup and crumb,
And give in to the cold and numb —
With this last chalice, we will toast
What we let go, but still

Love most