I’ll knit some tubing to,

Drain your Blotto fumes.

I’ll sort savage tidings,

From your forked falsehoods.

Vessels of hell dust,

First blood’s drawn.

Bottles slogged,

Askew and fall.

Bitterness your fact,

Regurgitate lack.

Your self-justification,

Torrent of cop outs.

Return like a man,

And shut your rancid mouth.