Poetry / Three Sheets to the Wind

Three Sheets to the Wind

Now the wind-mills tilt

on-ly at my will

dance all and sun-dry

Three Sheets to the Wind

Now the wind-mills tilt

We is one o-ver the eight

let black shuck see the rab-bit

‘cus my vi-sion a-in’t straight

on-ly sane out of hab-it

but I’d be so vir-tu-ous

if I had known how to wait

saw some-thing aw-ful

the worlds true col-or

it left me tap-ping

my shoes to-geth-er

Just to bring it back

back to se-pi-a

I wish I was met-al

A brass at-las

re-sting on four,

re-sting on nine,

which rest-ed on six-teen

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