22. The Vodka Queen

Psychedelic Progressive, trip hop, orchestral rock

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She’s got no patience for bourbon’s muddy lies,
Too sweet, too slow, like syrup drowning her fire.
Whiskey’s smoky sob stories, trying to drag her down,
But she’s immune, burning bright in her vodka crown.
Tequila’s a cheap thrill, a quick shot of regret,
She laughs at the burn, at the mess she’d soon forget.
 
Rum’s too sugary, a Caribbean joke in a glass,
Sweet and sticky, trying to mask the darkness she’s amassed.
Scotch’s old man’s whisper, a brittle, bitter tease,
She’d rather drown in pure vodka, wild and free.
Gin’s a botanical trap, a garden of pretences,
She’s got no time for herbs or their pretentious defences.

Vodka feeds her soul, pure, unfiltered, real,
No bullshit, no lies, just the way she wants to feel.
All those other spirits are just foolish games,
But vodka’s the fire that fuels her flame.
She’s the queen of the night, the wild in her veins,
And vodka’s the only thing that keeps her sane.

Brandy’s an old-fashioned lie, a fancy dress for the weak,
She’s not interested in the warmth they seek.
Absinthe’s a green fairy, a poison dressed as art,
But she’s already lost enough, she’s got no heart for that part.
Mezcal’s smoky smirk, pretending to be deep,
She’s had enough of their secrets, she’s got her own to keep. 
 
Amaretto’s a sweet little lie, a sugar-coated tease,
But she’s craving something sharper, something that won’t please.
Baileys is creamy, a dessert for the faint,
She’s not about that soft, sweet, saintly paint.
Liquors try to tempt her, but she’s immune to the charm,
Because nothing beats vodka’s honest, brutal harm.

She’s tasted every poison, every flavor they sell,
But none of them can speak the truth she knows too well.
Their lies are sweet pretences, their shadows too faint,
But vodka’s like a storm, relentless and taint.
They call her reckless, but they just don’t see,
It’s vodka that drives her wild, sets her free.

Margarita’s a tease, a party’s cheap disguise,
But it’s just a sugar rush masking her fire’s rise.
Anise, licorice, and all their bitter lies,
She’d rather drown in vodka’s honest cry.
No need for fruit juices, no need for a mask,
Just her and her spirit, a brutal, fiery blast.

So keep your cognac, your port, your fancy scene,
None of them compare to what she truly means.
Vodka’s her salvation, her deadly, beautiful curse,
The only liquid that can quench her thirst.
And when she needs it, she’s got her secret weapon close,
— her high-octane overdose.

When the night gets heavy and she needs a boost,
She reaches for her secret, her ultimate seduction—
A shot of Head Fuck, the caffeine surge she swears,
Is the perfect mixer for her vodka, unfiltered, raw, and rare.

3515/7500

*Hahaha yeah,-my sister is an amazing mess* *I wouldn't have her any other way* *In Fact I know a lot of crazy girls* *One in particular springs to mind every time someone asks me what I want to drink.* *I always think of her* *This is The Vodka Queen* She’s got no patience for bourbon’s muddy lies, Too sweet, too slow, like syrup drowning her fire. Whiskey’s smoky sob stories, trying to drag her down, But she’s immune, burning bright in her vodka crown. Tequila’s a cheap thrill, a quick shot of regret, She laughs at the burn, at the mess she’d soon forget. Rum’s too sugary, a Caribbean joke in a glass, Sweet and sticky, trying to mask the darkness she’s amassed. Scotch’s old man’s whisper, a brittle, bitter tease, She’d rather drown in pure vodka, wild and free. Gin’s a botanical trap, a garden of pretences, She’s got no time for herbs or their pretentious defences. Vodka feeds her soul, pure, unfiltered, real, No bullshit, no lies, just the way she wants to feel. All those other spirits are just foolish games, But vodka’s the fire that fuels her flame. She’s the queen of the night, the wild in her veins, And vodka’s the only thing that keeps her sane. Brandy’s an old-fashioned lie, a fancy dress for the weak, She’s not interested in the warmth they seek. Absinthe’s a green fairy, a poison dressed as art, But she’s already lost enough, she’s got no heart for that part. Mezcal’s smoky smirk, pretending to be deep, She’s had enough of their secrets, she’s got her own to keep. Amaretto’s a sweet little lie, a sugar-coated tease, But she’s craving something sharper, something that won’t please. Baileys is creamy, a dessert for the faint, She’s not about that soft, sweet, saintly paint. Liquors try to tempt her, but she’s immune to the charm, Because nothing beats vodka’s honest, brutal harm. Vodka feeds her soul, pure, unfiltered, real, No bullshit, no lies, just the way she wants to feel. All those other spirits are just foolish games, But vodka’s the fire that fuels her flame. She’s the queen of the night, the wild in her veins, And vodka’s the only thing that keeps her sane. She’s tasted every poison, every flavor they sell, But none of them can speak the truth she knows too well. Their lies are sweet pretences, their shadows too faint, But vodka’s like a storm, relentless and taint. They call her reckless, but they just don’t see, It’s vodka that drives her wild, sets her free. Margarita’s a tease, a party’s cheap disguise, But it’s just a sugar rush masking her fire’s rise. Anise, licorice, and all their bitter lies, She’d rather drown in vodka’s honest cry. No need for fruit juices, no need for a mask, Just her and her spirit, a brutal, fiery blast. So keep your cognac, your port, your fancy scene, None of them compare to what she truly means. Vodka’s her salvation, her deadly, beautiful curse, The only liquid that can quench her thirst. And when she needs it, she’s got her secret weapon close, — her high-octane overdose. Vodka feeds her soul, pure, unfiltered, real, No bullshit, no lies, just the way she wants to feel. All those other spirits are just foolish games, But vodka’s the fire that fuels her flame. She’s the queen of the night, the wild in her veins, And vodka’s the only thing that keeps her sane. When the night gets heavy and she needs a boost, She reaches for her secret, her ultimate seduction— A shot of Head Fuck, the caffeine surge she swears, Is the perfect mixer for her vodka, unfiltered, raw, and rare.

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